What Could Have Been
by Junie Dreams
Summary: A Zutara story-Zuko realizes his feelings for Katara too late. Coping in their distance is easy, but when Aang and Katara prepare for their wedding, what was once easy to ignore is now in his face, working to destroy his friendships with an urge to tell her how he feels and steal her away from the Avatar-but how could he live with himself if he did that?
1. The Gentle Touch of Rain

Zuko was not a fan of PDA. He could pinpoint the exact moment he decided, the moment that he realized he did not enjoy watching a couple kiss or touch. It was not something he thought consciously, but a soft realization; something his body reacted to before his mind did.

He had been watching Katara, her sapphire eyes lighting up like the ocean beneath a sunrise. She extended her arms, holding them out as Aang approached, wrapping them around him like a cocoon she could keep him safe in. A chrysalis to keep the hero safe in her arms, a prison to hold him hostage from the duties he was called on to fulfill. A prison he would never want to leave.

Zuko turned away, feeling as though he had intruded on a private moment. Instead, they laughed, and Sokka groaned as he walked by, complaining that he didn't need to see them latched onto one another like a bee to a blossom.

Zuko didn't need to look again to understand; they had kissed. His mind was alight with thoughts of Katara, interrupted with thoughts of Aang and Katara so closely entwined.

_Stop_, he told himself, _You're not supposed to think about her like that_.

She called his name, and he forced a smile, walking closer with a greeting.

He was sure he wouldn't mind explaining his discomfort, public displays of affections weren't the most enjoyable to watch. And yet-he had never considered that when he and Mai were together, never thought about it when Suki kissed Sokka so suddenly. It was just Katara. Just watching her in Aang's arms, her hands held so tightly by his.

He didn't need to fool himself with lies that he would treat her wrong. No, Aang would treat her like the most glorious star in the sky. For that, he was thankful. She was receiving the highest caliber of partners-the most powerful individual in the world, the most adored and loved, and he loved and adored her most of all.

It became easier, Zuko believed, to feign indifference. He tried to get himself to look at something as simple as their pinkies twisted together, but even that gave him a nausea at the unfairness of life. The unfairness of realizing feelings when they were too late to be of any use.

The smell after rain, that's when he knew it. The way the bushes gleamed brighter, the smell of dirt and nature strong in the air. He had been sitting outside, his chest wrapped in bandages, when Katara visited. She sat next to him, her hair braided down her back just as it was the first time he saw her. He hated her then. Now he appreciated the way it curved around her neck and over her shoulder.

"How are you feeling?" She asked, holding her hands together on her lap.

He sighed, not knowing quite what to say.

"Like it's all over," He said, "Like we did it, like it's all done."

"And that's a grim thought because?"

_Because I'll be alone again_. _You'll go back to the South Pole, Aang will go with you, Sokka too. Toph will teach her metalbending, and what will I do? _He shook his head. He would not let her see the weakness as pathetic as loneliness.

"It's not. I've just had a goal, now I've achieved it."

She laughed, and the sound surprised him.

"Is this the first time that's happened? It's a good thing, you know."

He smiled, it was small on his face, but it was present. She held her hand out, pressing it over his chest. He tensed-he could feel every vein in his body, working to carry out their functions, and struggling to.

"How's your heart?" She asked, looking him directly in the eye.

"Oh..it's..better." He brushed some of his hair from his eyes.

Her eyebrows scrunched together.

"Are you sure? You seemed to tense up when I touched there. It didn't hurt at all?"

He quickly shook his head.

"No, just caught me by surprise."

She smiled and closed her eyes, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Oh, Zuko," She chuckled.

Her fingers were still pressed against him-could she feel the beats of his heart? Did she know?

"What?" he said, his tone getting sharp, defensive.

"You don't need to lie. No one is going to look down on you for needing help."

She smiled sweetly, and relief pressed through his body.

"Oh. I...I guess you're right," he replied nervously.

"Of course I am."

She moved her hands to her side, bringing back a steady stream of water. He used to watch her hands, when he fought her, her hands would reveal her attacks before they came. Now he watched her face, watched the concentration, counted the furrow of her brows.

He didn't feel the pain much, but he felt the relief, whatever she was doing was speeding up his recovery. When she stopped, she stood up, and ruffled his hair.

"You really should get a haircut," She said, then walked away.

He didn't know how to respond to that, but he ran his hands through his hair, felt his face grow red, and rushed off to find something sharp.

* * *

When it rained, he remembered that day, the day he felt he had a secret from her. Never before did he feel like a liar. Now he felt like he had been holding it in all along, stuffed down at the bottom of his throat, impossible to cough up.

He was not going to see her often enough for it to be a problem, he decided. It was an assuring thought, one he could rely on as he performed his royal duties. On rainy days, he cancelled his appearances. He knew they would see it on his face, hear it in his voice-the wistfulness and melancholy. He knew the soft touch of rain and the sweet smell it left behind-it would be enough to remind him of her gentle fingers and her focus on him, on his heart.

Then the message came. Delivered by a messenger hawk decorated in blue-straight from the South Pole. A wedding. A big, beautiful wedding, of the Avatar and the water tribe girl. The illustrations of the couple weren't quite so pretty, Sokka had clearly done them.

Zuko didn't know how to respond for a while-they were his friends, his dearest friends who had guarded his back in battle, even saved his life on different occasions. He needed to say something, to congratulate them, but the words kept getting muddled in his head. _I always knew she would be yours. I'm so happy for you, both of you. Together. Yes. Great._

Luckily, he found another message inside from Sokka, one addressed to him, asking if he could arrange an engagement party at the Jasmine Dragon, just for friends and family. Apparently, in the South Pole, the Avatar had brought in a lot of visitors. A lot of pushy people who disrespected privacy and believed that they were invited to everything. Like a wedding.

This made things much easier for Zuko. He wrote to his uncle, both about the news and Sokka's request. Iroh, as always, was eager to help. He wrote back with plans to combine the symbols of the water tribe and air nomads in a paper decoration. Upon hearing this, Sokka said he would arrive a week before the party to help Iroh's decoration plans. Iroh also told Zuko to come early, but it was not an easy decision. He would go, but what if they saw? What if Sokka and Iroh saw the facade he put up around them? Around _her_?

He settled on arriving the night before. Initially, he planned to leave a week early, as he no longer had a travel option as convenient as Appa, but Sokka wrote that he could come pick him up while he had Appa. Zuko reluctantly agreed that this was the most convenient option, and sat in his room until the message came that the flying bison had arrived.

Upon seeing him, Zuko felt some joy. He missed his friends from the war, and he particularly enjoyed the humor Sokka could bring to things. He did not, however, seem particularly humoring at the moment. His eyes were decorated in sleepless circles of indigo, his hair was a nest, half ruffled up and the other half hanging down in twists and tangles. He gave Zuko a smile, and his eye twitched.

"Your majesty? Surely you want some company on this voyage," One of his guards said.

Zuko smiled back at Sokka, and shook his head.

"I will have enough company, thank you."

He sat on Appa's back, and Sokka carried them off into the sky.

"You can sleep if you'd like," Sokka said, his voice unstable.

"Are you alright, Sokka?"

He didn't want to ask the question, but Sokka had never been in a state so low he couldn't crack a joke. He seemed entirely too serious.

"What? I'm great! I've just been busy."

"Land Appa."

"We just took off! I'm not going to land him!"

"Do it Sokka."

"No."

"_Now_."

"Fine! Stupid regal authority."

Appa landed just beside the shores of the Fire Nation. The sound of waves crashing on shore seemed to relax Sokka, which was good. Zuko hopped down, and Sokka came down after. His arms were crossed.

"What is it _dad_?" Sokka said.

"You're unwell."

"What else is new?"

Zuko pressed his hand against Sokka's shoulder.

"Sokka, when your girlfriend turned into the moon you weren't this crazy."

He frowned.

"Well maybe that's just it. Maybe I'm finally grieving!"

He looked away, and Sokka could see a tear creating a path down his cheek.

"Is this wedding driving you crazy? Or..or is it.." Zuko started, carefully looking him over.

Sokka turned back to him, staring him straight in the eyes. The same sapphire blue of Katara's.

"Suki?" Zuko finished.

Sokka stifled a sob, and Zuko tightened his grip on his shoulder.

"I'm supposed to be really happy for Katara and Aang, and I am," He said, moving his hand rapidly as he spoke, "They just didn't realize the night they got engaged was the night Suki left."

Zuko's eyebrows came together.

"She left? Why would she leave?"

He bit his lip shaking his head.

"Said she was interested in someone else. Said she'd always have a special piece of her heart reserved for me but…"

He stopped, closing his eyes so the tears could fall.

"It's not her whole heart."

"How long have you kept this in?" Zuko asked.

"The entire engagement. I guess I thought someone would notice, but Katara seems exhausted from wedding planning, and Aang seems busy trying to coax her into sanity, and I'm trying to help them because she's my sister, and it's just been…" He took a deep breath, "too much."

Zuko sighed.

"I wish you had told me."

"And what would have happened? You're busy ruling a kingdom, buddy. I can't write you and ask to abandon your kingdom for something as small as-as slight mental instability."

Zuko shook his head. It never occurred to him that Sokka might have been alone as he was. He had Suki, he had his sister and Aang.

"I guess, Sokka. But I would have been there. You were there for me."

"You mean the time you tried to kill us so we didn't kill you back and brought you to safety?"

Zuko turned scarlet.

"Among other times, but that one in particular?" Sokka said.

Zuko nodded. Sokka gave him a smile, crooked, it looked like a crack in glass.

"Thanks buddy, now let's get going."

Zuko took the reigns, and whenever Sokka protested, he pretended to sneeze fire. Finally, Sokka passed out. He mumbled occasionally, but he was sleeping. Zuko knew he didn't need to worry about Sokka seeing anything about his feelings now. He was too busy surviving his own issues.

When they reached Ba Sing Se, Iroh was outside, waving his arms. He had been sitting on the balcony, with a pot of tea and a single cup, watching the sky.

Zuko landed Appa carefully on the balcony, so as to avoid the new crowd of people piling up outside the front entrance to see the Avatar. As soon as he climbed down, Iroh had him in a tight embrace. Zuko's body, as taut as the string of a guitar, relaxed for that moment.

Neither of them spoke, but Sokka sprang up on Appa's back.

"Are we there?"

He sniffed, looking around.

"Food?" He said wistfully, upon locating Iroh.

Iroh chuckled.

"Of course, my friend. I have prepared a wonderful feast."

Sokka slid down the side of Appa, landing unpleasantly on his side, but jumping up quickly, rushing by Zuko and into the shop.

"My nephew, how are you?" Iroh spoke, his voice calm and pleasant as always.

"I'm good. Great, actually," Zuko lied.

Iroh's eyebrow went up, though he kept his smile.

"I see. Here in the Earth Kingdom, the prosperity you have returned the Fire Nation to is heavily discussed-and searched for."

Iroh laughed, that big great laugh that Zuko remembered. It was the only sound of joy he heard for all his years away from home. He survived off of it, the same way Iroh survived off his tea.

"Well, come in, Fire Lord Zuko. This shabby little shop will not decorate itself."

He stepped toward the shop, and Zuko turned to look over the horizon, remembering the day they celebrated the end of the war, how Aang and Katara kissed right in this spot, how Sokka shrieked when he saw them.

He didn't see Iroh staring at him from the doorway, didn't know that his uncle, as always, understood him too well.

* * *

The week went by in a blur. Zuko focused his energy on Sokka. He took care of Sokka like a pet, telling him when to lie down, when to eat, when to drink tea. Sokka didn't resist much either, and if he did, Zuko would cook meat the way it was cooked in the Fire Nation, and Sokka would beg for some until he fessed into agreement.

When the night of the party arrived, the shop had been cleaned, redecorated, and covered in beautiful symbols of Aang and Katara. Toph showed up the last two days and sculpted a statue of metal for them-the two of them holding hands, gazing at one another. It was beautiful, and Zuko wondered how Toph could understand such detail and mimic it.

Aang and Katara arrived a little before sunset; since Sokka had come up early with Appa, they came in by boat, arriving in town by carriage. When they came in through the door, several guards had been placed outside to keep Aang or Katara from being mauled by fans. They entered the shop, and Zuko was taken aback by how different Aang was.

His grey eyes, once wide and naive with youth, had narrowed down with wisdom and experience. His brows were sharper, more intense, his face thinned down into an oval, and a touch of dark hair hung from his chin, but his smile still held that excitement and joy that it always did.

He was wearing his yellow and red robes as always, but these ones were nicer, made from something more vain-charmeuse instead of plain cotton. A single shoulder stood free from fabric, and what had once been little boy bones had become thick and beaded with muscle.

He waved upon seeing Zuko, though he was busy discussing with Toph.

Then Katara came in.

Her eyes shone with the same blue brilliance as always, but there was something new about them. They had always been as dark as the ocean and as bright as sapphires, but now they held cold in them, like ice. Sokka had said she had been struggling as well, that must have been it.

Her hair was tied in a knot behind her head, aside from two long strands that dripped down her cheeks and onto her collarbone. She immediately shed her coat, revealing a velvet gown a decadent shade of indigo. It held loosely to her curved shape, ending just above her ankles.

She smiled, and again there was something missing, some dazzle, some shine. Her smile seemed so false, like a lie strapped across her face. She embraced her brother first, moved on to Iroh, and greeted Toph. Then her eyes found Zuko.

All the warmth that was absent in her gaze returned. She marched down the narrow entrance and into the body of the shop, where Zuko stood by the metal sculpture. She wrapped her arms around him, and again his insides coiled up.

"It's been so long," She said, and her voice was crackled and frail as Sokka's had been.

"Are you alright?" He asked, tilting his head to look down at her.

He had not realized how much he had changed, either. He thought Katara had shrunk. He was now an entire foot taller than her.

"Am I alright?"

She laughed a little, and pulled away.

"I'm getting married, Zuko. I'm great. Just a little tired," She said, "How are you? You seem.." She looked at him up and down, not judgingly but adoringly, as if looking for a compliment, "..taller."

She giggled again, and Zuko blushed.

"Yeah, I guess I've grown a bit. I was going to say you shrunk."

She lightly smacked his shoulder.

"Shame on you, criticizing a bride's height."

"Someone had to," Remarked Toph.

Zuko straightened up. He had not realized the party had come to them.

"I'm still taller than you," Katara said.

"I could make myself taller if I wanted," Toph said, "Would probably give my enemies the benefit of the doubt, too."

Aang laughed, and that playful charisma was back.

"What're you laughing at, Twinkle Toes? You'd be at the front of the line to fight me without my feet touching the ground."

"I don't know. I've got all four elements this time."

Toph scoffed.

"You're lucky you're getting married. Katara, I apologize, but the moment after the wedding, it's a rematch between the Blind Bandit and your husband."

"After the honeymoon," Katara corrected, "Then I'm game."

Aang wrapped his arm around Katara, pulling her shoulders into him, and she shivered a little. He smiled at her, and she smiled back. Zuko fought the twitch in his neck telling him to look away.

"So," Iroh said, standing at the front of the room, "I've brought in the best cooks I've ever known to make a delicious buffet."

"Yes," Sokka said, "I have personally tested everything they have made, and I confirm that it is indeed delicious. Shall we head in?"

Sokka started for the buffet, but tripped, and Zuko noticed a bump in the ground before Toph mercilessly stepped over Sokka. Aang and Katara headed over next, Katara turning over her shoulder to flash another smile at Zuko. He felt his heart beat in a pattern it hadn't in years.

Sokka stood up, chasing after Toph, and Zuko followed last.

He didn't eat much; Aang didn't either, he was too busy talking to Toph and Iroh, taking turns to discuss with each of them. Sokka interjected occasionally to make a joke at someone else's expense, usually Toph's. Toph of course, explained her progress as a cop, and anytime Sokka tried to interrupt her, his fork would mysteriously fall out of his hand and onto the floor. On one occasion, Toph described a rough relationship with one of the newer cops. Sokka, who had just pressed food into his mouth, opened up to make a pun, and ended up choking, his fork pressing the food too far down his throat.

Zuko laughed when the group laughed, he smiled when Katara smiled, tried to act as if he was having as much fun as everyone else.

"How about you, Zuko?" Katara asked, "How's being Lord of the Fire Nation?"

Zuko cleared his throat. All eyes were on him, of course the worst were Katara's, glimmering in the candlelight.

"Well...you know, there's all these treaties to sign, small laws and big ones...and I have to read more history since I missed three years of schooling...and..and.."

"Did you tell them about the lightning?" Sokka asked.

Zuko's heart stopped.

"Lightning?" Aang asked, "What do you mean?"

"Yeah, he said he mastered the ability to use lightning. Isn't that right?" Sokka said.

Zuko bit his tongue. Apparently, while he had been taking care of Sokka, he had disclosed his new ability to at last create lightning. He only hoped he didn't tell him _when_ that ability surfaced.

"Nephew, have you at last let go of all your pride?" Iroh said.

Iroh's smile radiated pride as they all gaped at him.

"I thought-I thought only Azula and Ozai could use lightning?" Aang said.

Iroh shook his head.

"It is a difficult gift, but with humility, one can achieve the gift."

"Ironic," Toph muttered, "If I were to think of a word to describe Azula, it wouldn't be humble."

Sokka choked again, though not from his fork. He was laughing. Toph smiled, and it wasn't her victorious smile, or taunting smirk, it was pure happiness.

"So you can do it?" Katara asked, "You can channel lightning?"

Zuko nodded slowly, thinking back to the day he made the discovery. The day he sat outside in the rain, remembering Katara's touch against his skin, thinking of her hand enveloped in Aang's. He had simply held his arms out, and felt the coldness of loneliness, the sorrow of giving your heart to someone who could not take it; sharp and jagged electricity had greeted him, and he had embraced it.

"Zuko," Aang said in disbelief, "That's amazing."

"Indeed," Iroh said with a smile, "My nephew is a _very_ powerful bender."

Katara winced, and Aang's grip on her shoulder tightened. Zuko didn't understand why, but chose not to ask.

"Sorry," Katara said, wrapping her arms around herself, "It's just a little chilly in here."

"Says the girl who lives in the South Pole," Sokka said.

She glared at him, the way siblings do.

"Shall I tell the story of the moonlit dip, Sokka?" Katara asked.

Sokka turned vermilion.

"No, you know, I think we're all good here," He said quickly.

"Um, no we are certainly not! The 'moonlit dip?' This I've got to hear!"

So Katara told the story of how one night, while they were still at the North Pole, Sokka had gone skinny dipping in the ice cold waters, because he had a dream that Yue had asked him to.

By the end of the story, Sokka had hidden his face in his hands, Toph had fallen over from laughing so hard, and Aang had sympathetically patted Sokka's ponytail. Iroh decided it was time to present engagement gifts. Sokka had painted the two of them in the South Pole, Katara holding out fish to penguins while Aang hopped on their backs. With a start, Zuko realized it was actually a good painting, that Sokka must have practiced and practiced until it was good.

Toph made a pair of matching bracelets from crystal. She shaped and designed them so that like the decorations, they had combined the symbol of the Water Tribes, and the Air Nomads.

Iroh of course had gifted them a teapot. It was not particularly lavish, nor beaten down. He explained that it was the teapot given to him and his wife for their wedding. Aang refused to take such a sentimental item from Iroh, but Iroh insisted it was the sentiment that made the gift valuable, and that it was hard for him to have such a gift as it was.

When it was Zuko's turn, he took a deep breath, and unrolled a smooth roll. Inside, he knew, were two outfits, made from the purest silks on the planet. As he revealed them, Sokka's jaw dropped.

"What? What's so special?" Toph asked, holding her hands up.

"That's Brocade! The most beautiful, lavish fabric in the world!" Sokka said.

Toph shrugged.

"Clothes are clothes. It's not a big deal."

Sokka rolled his eyes at her.

It was clear which design had been made for who. One was silver and blue, the other gold and red. They were loosely shaped; made to be fitted and altered.

"Zuko, these are beautiful," Katara said, "They look like something for royalty."

Zuko shook his head. He felt ashamed of his gift. He didn't know what to get, so he bought the most expensive thing he thought they could use-and hated himself for it. Everyone else had poured time, thought and effort into their gifts. Everyone except him. Of course, he had a separate idea initially, but no one could have seen it and not known how he felt about Katara. This was much safer, even if it made him seem apathetic and snobby.

"I guess we know what we'll be wearing at the ceremony," Aang chuckled.

They ran their fingers across them, and Zuko twisted his fingers around a pale bead he took from his pocket. Katara turned and smiled at him, and he smiled back, willing time to move faster so the evening could be over.

When it was deep into the night and the moon had risen high, everyone went to bed. There were several guest rooms, all installed for this reason. Iroh had decided there was no point to having a house if no friends could stay over, so for that very reason, he had asked for seven rooms. One for him, one for Zuko, one for Katara, one for Aang, one for Toph, one for Sokka, and one for Suki. Of course, no one asked where Suki was. Zuko was thankful for this; he didn't think Sokka could deal with bringing her up.

Zuko tossed and turned that evening. When the sky became a dark blue instead of pitch black, he gave up on sleep all together, and crept into the kitchen, planning to make some tea. He lit a lantern and in the light, he noticed he wasn't alone. His uncle had already made a pot, and it smelled of jasmine. He smiled warmly at Zuko.

"Good morning, Fire Lord Zuko. You are up quite early."

Zuko tried to give his uncle a smile back, but felt odd lying to him, even with expressions.

"Yes," He said, "Could not sleep. Are you normally up this early?"

Iroh smiled, looking down at his tea.

"On occasion. It is easier to sleep when life is absent of issue. When there are problems present, it is more of a struggle."

His gaze drifted back up to Zuko.

"Tell me, Zuko, what problem has filled your mind with restlessness?"

He was smiling, softly, and Zuko knew in that moment that Iroh knew. He was asking out of politeness and respect-but he wanted Zuko to admit the problem out loud-which was something Zuko was utterly not willing to do.

"Just problems in the kingdom," Zuko lied, quickly, reaching for a cup and watching the pot of tea as he poured.

Iroh's gaze remained fastened onto him.

"Problems in this age of peace. Ah, Zuko, tell me what small issues these may be."

Zuko's mind raced; his heart ran the same marathon. He searched for words cryptic but clear.

"Well...many of the firebenders are glad to no longer colonize the Earth Kingdom. They are happy to return home, they feel as if….they no longer owe it to their nation to do what it wanted them to do. But some of them.."

His eyes met his uncle's, before quickly returning to the floor.

"Some of the believe they belong with the Earth Nation, even if the Earth Nation doesn't want them."

He hesitated.

"Even if the Earth Nation belongs to someone else."

Iroh's eyebrows rose.

"I mean-they belong to themselves of course," Zuko added, "But..at the same time they _don't…_?"

Iroh set his cup down and reached out to Zuko, taking his shoulder.

"The Earth Nation belongs to itself," He said, "No matter what alliances she makes, she is her own. However," he paused, and Zuko saw a spark in his eyes, as he often did when Iroh expressed his inner thoughts, "If the Fire Nation is too afraid to address this, if there is miscommunication, then all that may grow is frustration and discontent."

His tone was serious, though his words were gentle.

"The Earth Nation is a blossom on the branch of a tree. The wind can carry it away unless the tree holds on. If the tree relinquishes it so easily, would the blossom ever have the chance to hold on?"

Zuko didn't speak. Not until the sun rose.

"Maybe the tree has to let the blossom go, because it would destroy more than it would create."

Iroh stood, taking a final sip from his cup.

"Perhaps. But sometimes it takes loss for there to be gain."

He walked away, leaving Zuko alone in the kitchen.


	2. The Storm on its way

The sun lifted up in the sky, and the quiet space became loud with life. In the following hours, the shop was a mess. Katara packed Appa up with all their gifts. It was decided that Toph and Sokka would take the ship back to the South Pole, and that Aang and Katara would fly Zuko back to the Fire Nation on Appa before returning home. Zuko felt like this would ooze awkward-but didn't fight it. A little after noon, they were loaded up on Appa and flying away.

Katara wanted to fly the first few hours, so she sat up front while Aang and Zuko sat in the saddle. Zuko, attempting to fill the silence, asked every Avatar related question he could think of. How was controlling the Avatar State? Did he need to use it often? Did he ever grow rusty with a certain element and need to practice?

"It's gotten easier, not too often, yeah I need to practice, but for the most part I use each one every day, so it's not hard to find opportunities."

Zuko nodded his head, feigning interest. He tried to keep his eyes on Aang, not let them trail over to Katara. Katara, whose dark hair blew behind her head like a cloak of pure silk. Katara, whose shoulders stuck out like a perfect line, holding her body in a proud posture. He was reminded of the night they snuck off from camp to chase the man who killed her mother.

He had watched her then, the strength and resilience in her posture, and recognized that behind all that hope and determination, she was afraid. Afraid like he was, of what she would find, and if she found it, what she would do next. She had spent so long mourning her mother, angry at the world, and when the chance came to get revenge-how would she move on after?

He knew the feeling. The difference was, by the time she neared her moment, he had already faced his. He had returned home a hero, bathed in the glory of his father's pride, and it left him..empty. She felt that too, he was sure.

Nagging at the back of his head was Aang's voice, reminding him that he said that all along-that Katara wouldn't feel better seeking revenge; it would only hurt her more. Aang had already known the conclusion-but Zuko had supported her, desperate for her acceptance. He didn't think of the damage it would do to her, not like Aang who wanted the best for her, always.

He had been such a fool.

"...so I mean, there's more to do now, but less at the same time, you know?"

Zuko nodded his head to Aang's words, and Aang continued to talk, explaining several adventures he had taken-typically expeditions with the children, attempts to impress them. Always impressing somebody.

"Sweetie?" Katara said, her voice weak.

"Yes?" Aang said, turning around to face her.

"Could you take the reigns for a bit? I'm not feeling well."

Aang had already hopped over to her, snatched her up, and placed her in the saddle. He set her down before sitting in the front with Appa. Zuko could hear his voice blurred by the wind. He was talking to his old friend.

In front of him, Katara leaned against the slight bracing around the sides of the saddle. She was looking at her hands, massaging each one with the other.

"Are you alright?" Zuko asked, trying to keep his voice smooth.

She nodded slowly, shutting her eyes. In the twilight of sunset, she looked even skinnier. Shadows clung to her skin, and instead of her normal warm complexion, she appeared weaker, more blue.

"Just tired," She said softly.

_Tired_, He thought, running the word over in his head. _Why is she tired_?

"Tired? You don't look tired," He said, then immediately regretted it.

Her eyes sharpened a little.

"How do you know what tired looks like?" She snapped.

"You just-you're not sleepy..it seems like something else is bothering you," He said, searching for words to diffuse.

"So you can only be tired if your sleepy? What if you can't sleep!?"

Her voice should have echoed, but the wind carried her words away. Aang twitched slightly, but seemed to convince himself against turning around.

Her glare was sharpened to a point. It reminded Zuko of fighting her-how calculating those eyes were. They were calculating now.

"Maybe I don't get to sleep in a palace, _your majesty_. Maybe I have things _to worry about_. Things that don't let me sleep!"

He didn't say anything-his instinct had always been to shoot back; if they were sharp with him, he would be twice as sharp back. But this was Katara. He had wasted too long being sharp with her in the first place.

"You wouldn't know what it's like not to sleep," She said, and her voice was crackling with emotion, "You just dismiss or destroy your problems with a wave of your hands-no need to ponder. No need to stress."

The heat of her anger was gone; replaced entirely by the calculating sharpness inside her words.

"You probably don't even feel."

He froze, his insides melting down into a pit. He had fallen now; his mind was gone, concentrating on the strand of hair that floated between her temple and jaw. He couldn't think of what to say, what to explain. He had no comeback, nothing sharp.

He didn't notice Katara's face after that; the way it softened as she watched his expression melt away into a sorrow she hadn't seen. The regret that pulsed its way through her veins. He didn't notice. He was too busy telling himself to breathe, too busy ignoring the jarring pain that his heart seemed to hum through his blood.

Appa landed, and Zuko stood quickly. He heard Katara stutter; saw her arm reach out for him; he hopped down.

"Thanks for the ride back," He muttered to Aang, "I'll see you at the wedding."

* * *

His mind went numb when he thought of Katara. He was used to anxiety and sorrow and longing; now when he thought of her, his heart seemed to go dry. His heartbeat pumped separate from him, as if it were an object in his hand, not inside him. He tried to remember a time when he had felt so empty before.

The closest feeling that came to mind was banishment. Banishment from his family and home. That's what he was feeling now-banishment from Katara.

The emptiness messed with everything. Normally when the wistfullness grew to be too much, he trained. His fire had once been solid, powerful, even beautiful, an inferno of energy and soul. Now it came out in snuffs and gasps before burning away. Zuko couldn't help but feel like it was his heart. Smoldering into nothingness.

The lightning he had achieved was no longer. Similar to the fire, it would zap into existence with sparks and jagged ends, and Zuko would twist his body to direct it. _You probably don't even feel_. The coldness would move under his skin, and the scar over his heart would burn like a wound still bleeding out.

His uncle wrote him letters, still using the same cryptic language Zuko had used that night. Zuko always waited three days to open them; three days he spent convincing himself Katara didn't matter, that he didn't feel anything for her. Three days trumped by the moment he remembered her cold voice tell him, _you probably don't even feel_.

He would tear open the envelope, his hands ruthless against the parchment. Then he would hold the script up to his eyes and read. The words of his uncle in the familiar smooth and thin handwriting were the closest thing he had to understanding. They sat in his head, begging him to do what his heart told him.

_Uncle, I am unable. Uncle, it would make things worse. Uncle, I have decided the Earth Nation wants nothing of the Fire Nation, and the Fire Nation would be better off far away_.

With every letter, his uncle would get more specific. The Earth Nation became a painting; the painting then became a puppy; the puppy became a girl Zuko had dated; and at last, the girl became Katara.

_Zuko, you do not understand. By doing nothing now, you seal your fate of heartbreak_. _There is still time to act. We do not choose to feel how we do, we are blameless pawns of fate in love. You worry that you risk all you have. I promise that what you have is not so easily destroyed. It may be difficult to understand. You were once a prince who lived the high life, and it was stripped away in an instant. I assure you, my nephew, people do not disappear so easily as your father did. Seek happiness, no one will blame you for that._

Zuko sighed. It had been months. Months and months. Almost a year. And a year after an engagement, was the ceremony.

_Do what you must now so it will not be unbearable later. I only want you to be happy. _

He didn't answer that one. He didn't know how to lie to his uncle. His uncle, who had seen him at his lowest, seen him be the worst he ever had been, seen him do things unforgivable-and accepted and loved him regardless. _No_. _I can't lie to him_.

A few weeks later, another letter came.

_Zuko, I have been called upon by an old friend who is ill. I seek to take care of him, but in the meantime, there is no one to run my tea shop. It is a very important duty to perform, and I do not trust anyone else to takeover in my absence. Would you be willing to do me this favor?_

* * *

He arrived at the shop two days later, just as Iroh was leaving. They greeted one another quickly, then Iroh departed, leaving Zuko to run the shop alone. Not that running it alone was a bad thing. Zuko actually rather enjoyed the loneliness and the mindless work. It reminded him of when he had begun working in tea shops to begin with, how he had managed over time to forget the search for the Avatar, and to let things be.

On the same level, he was trying to forget Katara. Trying to forget the three weeks left before he would leave for the South Pole and watch the wedding.

Surprisingly, not many customers recognized Zuko as the Fire Lord. They asked how he knew Iroh, and he explained that Iroh was his uncle, and they would all make sounds of realization.

"You're Iroh's nephew? I've heard so much about you!"

"You're the nephew? Wow, you're much cuter than I would have thought."

"Oh wow it's you! Is it true you know the Avatar?"

They would all tell him stories Iroh had told them about him, or about stories they had heard about the Avatar, asking if they were true. It was nice for Zuko to talk to people about his uncle, even about Aang. Back in the Fire Nation, there were politics to deal with, and Zuko disliked the heartless nature in which certain things were dealt with. Here, everyone was kind. They came for tea and conversation. Zuko felt a deep pride for Iroh, that he had accomplished something he had desired-creating a safe place for warm leaf juice.

The only issues were the evenings.

Despite what Katara had accused of him, he was very familiar with sleepless nights and restless minds. When he did fall asleep, it was always a dream about sleeping on a fire. He would lie down on sticks and logs, and try to sleep as flames came to life beneath him, burning him away. No matter how much it burned, he kept assuring himself it was alright. He kept telling himself he could sleep, and he kept trying, ignoring the pain of hot embers beneath his back, ignoring the searing agony he felt in his heart, just over his scar, ignoring the whispers of the fire. _You feel me, why do you let me burn you? Why don't you put me out? Why don't you move on? Why do you try to sleep on what could burn brighter than the sun?_

As the dream became more vivid, he would see his uncle, sitting beside him as he tried to sleep. His uncle would hold his pot of tea over Zuko until it boiled. When at last it whistled, he would pour the tea. Only, it wasn't tea. It was silvery liquid, almost like metal. Iroh would tip his chin up and sip, and he would pull away with a sad expression.

"Nephew, why have you turned my tea to sorrow?"

But even after that, the dream would continue. Clouds would rise over them, and Iroh would stand up.

"Zuko, your flame will go out if you do not protect it."

Zuko would shake his head.

"It burns, let it go out."

"Zuko! Listen to me! It will burn more when it is quenched!"

But Zuko would ignore him. Rain would pour down, and Zuko would smell Katara in the breeze, just as the flames beneath his back died down to ash. In the absence of the flames, all he felt was cold. He would look to his uncle, and his uncle would call his name as Zuko too, dusted into ash.

One morning, he woke up with clarity and understanding. The flames weren't separate from him; they didn't burn from beneath him as he thought; he was the flames; the flames were him. And Katara was the storm that could put them out.

As a solution to his endless dreams of burning, Zuko decided to keep the shop open later. Unfortunately, it was not as good of a plan as he hoped; most were used to the normal hours, so those that were there stayed a little longer, but no additional customers came in.

He hung on to the few that stayed late anyway, offering to play Pai Sho, and even teach it to the children who came in. And it was fun. He would laugh as he explained each piece, and what it meant, displaying the white lotus as his uncle's favorite.

But all things ended, and every night, he would be left alone again, left alone to ponder the numbness when he thought of Katara, or his inability to use lightning.

He scrubbed the pots and cups, along with the plates, and began preparing for the next day. Some nights, he would sit outside on the balcony and stare up at the moon, and count the stars.

Tonight it was too cloudy for that. Thunder rumbled against the roof of the shop, and lightning flashed. Zuko rushed to close the windows as the wind raged and rain fluttered in. The fireplace was soaked; he moved to push in the plug. He stepped away, surprised at the in the cold absence of fire. The room became deep blue, nothing but the vague light of the moon hidden behind dark grey clouds.

There was a hasty knock at the door, loud and sudden, making Zuko jump.

His hand lit with fire, and he slowly stepped toward the door. Through the small window at the top of the wooden frame, he could make out a slim silhouette, soft and smooth in the dark light.

He couldn't remember what time it was-it was late, he knew that much. It had been a slow day at the shop, with not many customers-the last of which left several hours ago. It was definitely the middle of the night now, had one of them left something?

The rapping on the door started up again, and he rushed toward it, keeping the spark of fire in his left hand as his right reached forward and pulled it open.

In the strong winds, she held a cloak against herself, one hand at the top of her head to secure the hood over her face. Her hair was soaked from the rain and yet flung wildly around her like the leaves of a willow tree. Her other arm was strung across her chest, holding the body of fabric together so the sharp breeze wouldn't pull it off. Her face was weak and tired; her cheekbones were sharper against her unusual thinness. There were dark bags beneath her eyes. But her eyes, they never shone with a brighter blue.

Katara stood on the porch, her cheeks wet with tears, desperation burning in her eyes.

"Zuko?"


	3. Cloudy Skies Loom

It was five days before the wedding.

Five days before Katara would get up, get dressed, and walk down the aisle.

Five days before she would vow herself to Aang.

Five days before she was his forever.

Forever.

Katara wasn't sure how she had made it this far. She wasn't sure how Sokka hadn't noticed. How had he not seen the absence of food on her plate, the absence of color in her cheeks, the absence of life in her breath, the absence of hope in her heart? How hadn't he noticed that she was dying inside every day and every night, forcing herself into something permanent when she wasn't even sure if she wanted it presently? How could she allow herself to lie to herself, to Aang, to Sokka, to everyone-lied about wanting the wedding?

She had always loved Aang. This was a fact, as indisputable as they come-and yet, she felt something missing.

When she was a little girl, and her mother still breathed beside her, she would look to her necklace. It was the palest of blues, carved in with the design of the water tribe. She would always ask for the story; how her parents met, how her father had given the necklace, how she had responded.

Kya would tilt her chin down at the young girl with warmth and patience that only a mother possessed-a mother who had told the story hundreds of times and simply repeated verses she had memorized through every telling.

And Katara would listen. With her big mouth and loud thoughts, Katara would stop speaking and imagine the story that her mother told her, hoping someday something similar would happen to her.

Perhaps that was how it went so wrong. She had been so desperate to be married, so desperate for that connection to her mother, that she didn't care who marriage was with. That maybe, just maybe, she would marry anyone who wanted to marry her, regardless of if she wanted to marry them back.

The realization frightened her. She had been cold for so long-since the moment Aang had shown her the necklace he made for her. He had put it around her neck one time to measure the binding-and it was an electric shock against her skin. Goosebumps crawled all over her, hair stood up, her spine twitched and she shivered, all day and all night.

Aang was gentle and sweet, he would hold her against him, and pull blankets over them. She would lay her head on his shoulder, and he would tilt his head so that it laid on top of hers. She could imagine a portrait artist ordering them to hold still while he painted them in this position. They would hang it in their home, just across from the door, so that when anyone walked in, they would see the tenderness and love Aang and Katara had for one another.

Katara tried to focus on that when she felt cold. She tried to think about that big beautiful future-one with a nice hot fire on one end of the house, cooking mangoes and seal, and all other tribe traditions. She dreamed of soft rugs on the floor, candles on the table, ceramic plates she could make with time on her own. She thought of Toph coming to visit, and Sokka, and making dinner for them. She imagined holding a baby in her arms, one with Aang's smile and her eyes. That was what pulled her through-the thought of the baby in her arms.

Every morning when she would wake up and see the wedding decorations being made, the designs for the ceremony, when she would be fitted for her dress, she would close her eyes and think of the baby, the baby she hoped to have with Aang.

Every night when she would toss and turn with no sound but the light crackle of fire, she would dream about her baby, hope that he would love her enough to make everything worth it.

But it wasn't so easy to hold off discontent.

Nor was it easy to hide it.

Every night, she would hear what she said to Zuko again. _You probably don't even feel._

Every time she started to have hopes for the wedding, the same chill ran up her spine, and in front of her was Zuko, his face melting into solemnity at her words. It was her punishment, the punishment the spirits had given her for being so cruel to someone she held so dear.

The moment the last syllable left her lips, she could see the damage done. His eyes, amber bright with flecks of gold, would tear away from her, hiding any impact or pain she had caused. His eyebrow dipped down into his eye, and his lips would curl together into flattened upside-down _U._ She watched as the wind blew his hair from his face, revealing the entirety of his scar against his face.

She hated herself for hurting him anymore than he deserved to be hurt. There was no excuse for her cruelty, but it had still been so easy. So easy to be sharp with him, to blame him for her problems and take them out on him. _It's his fault_, her mind had been telling her, _His fault that I feel so unsure about Aang_.

She tried to believe it was her familiarity with cruelness toward Zuko; the habit formed from their youth that made so easy to be hateful.

But when she looked at Zuko, she never felt hateful.

She felt warm.

She felt as if she had lived a thousand nights beneath the moon without a ray of sunshine, and Zuko had held the sun out to her just so she could taste warmth on her skin.

The guilt for such a feeling was too much.

It was why she didn't eat, why she didn't smile. She loved Aang, but did she really love him if she was capable of lying to him at such a large extent? He knew nothing of the uncertainty in her, he assumed it was all stress about wedding preparation. To Katara, the thought was laughable. She didn't care how the wedding looked, how it smelled, how many people showed up, what they ate, how she looked in her gown, or anything they had as a memento after. When you had nearly died in a war, when you had world-ending problems behind you, something as insignificant and minor as a wedding didn't bother you so much.

Why had it riled her up when Zuko said that to her? When he told her he thought something else was bothering her?

Because it was true.

Because there was no way she could marry Aang.

She sat up in her bed, and went to her mirror.

The girl who stared back at her was unfamiliar to her eyes. Her hair hung in oily strands around her head, her body was beaded with sweat, and her skin was stretched tight against her bones so that she looked hollowed out.

She lifted her hands up to the top of her head, pulling a comb from the table, and forced it down her knotted strands. When her hair hung in a frizz around her face, she took her bead from her box, and pressed it at the top of her roots. _Hair Loopies_, Sokka had called them. _Hair Loopy now_, Katara thought. She lost one of the beads during the war, so that on one side of her face, her hair hung wildly unrestrained.

She hastily fastened her necklace to her throat, pulling on a shawl over her pale nightgown. She marched out of her igloo, into the chilly night air. She didn't feel cold outside. She had felt cold for so long that the pain had numbed, and the wind pushing her back was a weak obstacle.

It was seven days before the wedding.

How had she thought she could go through with it?

She marched through the snow, toward Aang's igloo. Appa slept outside, on cushions surrounded by stacks of hay. His snores were comforting, as was the soft fur of his coat. But she needed him in order to escape.

She brushed her hand against his nose, and he let out a great moan as his eyes opened and he located her.

"Hi Appa," She whispered, "I need you to take me to the Earth Kingdom, alright?"

His breathing was heavy, and his eyes seemed to burn against her. She was using Aang's bison to get away from him-how cruel was she?

Cruel enough to let the thought slide past her. She hopped onto his back, sitting on his neck and taking the reins. She whispered the command, and he lifted into the air delicately, upsetting only a small amount of powdered snow.

She didn't look behind her at Aang's igloo, but she wondered if he heard. Wondered if he came out and watched her fly away. Wondered if he would fly out after her.

She shook her head. Aang was too perfect. He would hold no suspicion she was running away, he would believe she was doing something she needed to do, going somewhere she needed to go, and that she would be back in a few days, in time for the wedding.

He gave her more faith than she deserved.

She flew for two days and two nights, stopping only once for Appa to rest. There was no use trying to sleep herself, she was not tired. She had never felt more awake.

When Appa was rested enough, she continued flying to Ba Sing Se. She needed guidance. She needed someone who could listen to her and tell her what to do. She needed Iroh.

The sight of the walls filled her veins with hope; the thing that had been missing in her heart for so long. With The Jasmine Dragon right in front of her, she was shaking. She was so sure that coming here was the right decision, that Iroh would take her in and listen to her. What if he turned her away? What if he shamed her? What if he blamed her for allowing herself into this situation?

What if he told her there was nothing to do but marry him?

She didn't notice the rain, didn't feel it's cold touch. For her, it was an assurance that she had done the right thing. Rain was her friend, there to back her up.

She hammered her knuckle against the door, making a loud, unpleasant sound. She had no idea what time it was-what if Iroh was asleep? She decided he was a heavy sleeper, that even if she knocked with greater intensity it would be unlikely to wake him up.

She knocked again before she lost her nerve. She was beginning to feel the cold of the rain again, the hope leaving her body and melting into despair.

She raised her fist one more time-and the door yanked open.

Zuko stood in front of her.

Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, insecurity tickled her hope. Before she could stop herself, her shock allowed her to utter out a single word, her voice weak but clear.

"Zuko?"


	4. Brewing Overhead

Zuko held his breath.

"Katara," He said, his voice tense with emotion, "What are you doing here?"

She shivered in the rain, pulling her shawl closer against her. Zuko was surprised to notice she was barefoot, and the silk gown she wore was definitely a sleeping gown.

"Can I come in or what?" She said, her voice cold.

Zuko pushed the door open wider, and she stepped in. Immediately, she dropped the shawl from her body, letting it fall to the floor. He figured it was only making her colder, considering it was soaked to the point of drenching the floor.

He tried to keep his eyes off of her. Her nightgown clung tightly against the curves of her body, which were sharper because of her unhealthy weight. It was mainly bright white, but grey from wear and dirt. He wondered how long she had been wearing it.

"Do you think you could heat some water?" She asked, squeezing her hair so that it poured down onto the wood floor.

Zuko glanced at the fireplace. It was still drenched from the rain, and if he took the plug out, it would only get more soaked.

"If you can hold the rain up," He said, bending down to remove the plug.

Katara rose her hands, lifting them gently around her as if she were stroking a breeze. The water on the logs lifted away, following her movements.

Zuko set the pot over the logs, turning to Katara. She held her hands out toward the fireplace, and Zuko moved to light it. Fire shimmered to life from his fingers, and smoke leaked upward, halted by the wall of rain Katara held.

Zuko continued to brighten the flames, trying to heat the water as quick as possible. When at last it boiled and bubbled, he took the pot from the flames, withered them to ash, and pushed the plug back into the chimney.

Katara dropped her hands, and there was an audible _splash_ from the chimney, though no water leaked through. In the absence of light from the fire, it was dark again, lit only by chilled moonlight. Zuko could hear her breath intake, fast and uneasy. She was out of breath, as if she had been running. Thunder rumbled outside, and Zuko glanced at the window, searching for lightning in the rain.

"I'm going to take a bath," Katara said plainly, breaking through the silence. She lifted the hot water after her, stepped into the bathroom and slammed the door behind her with her heel.

Zuko sighed and stared at the cold ashes in the fireplace. He turned away, and his feet found a puddle from where Katara had squeezed out her hair. He rolled his eyes and snatched the mop, pushing the water around so it would dry faster.

After he finished, he scooped up Katara's shawl and hung it by the window, so when the clouds went away, he could open it and let the winds dry the garment.

The bathroom door swung open, and Katara stepped out, wrapped in a plush green towel. Zuko turned away from her, his face red, but his mind concerned. From the quick glance he got, her collarbone looked like it was going to cut through her skin.

He decided to say something about it, but when he turned again, Katara had gone down the hall, likely to her room. He crept to her door, standing just outside, debating whether or not to knock. He thought he could hear her; the comb running through her hair, her knee bouncing from the floor, a soft melody hummed into silence.

What was she doing here?

The Wedding was in five days-four when morning came.

In his pocket, he picked up the pale bead once more with his fingertips; rolling it across as a comfort to his anxiety.

"Zuko?"

He tensed; Katara had called his name through the door.

"Uh..yeah?" He responded.

"Do you..need something?"

He brushed his hair carefully behind his ears. It was long again, and he needed to cut it.

"Uh..was just wondering..if you wanted some tea?"

He was so stupid. So, so stupid. Who was he, Uncle Iroh?

"Tea sounds good..just give me a minute."

She sighed.

"Katara?"

"..Yes?"

He realized he had said her name as a response to her sigh, and quickly scrapped together a question to hide this fact.

"..what kind of tea?"

He facepalmed in disbelief at his inability to sense mood and respond accordingly. He kept pestering her when she clearly wanted to be alone.

"There's more than one?"

Was it a joke? Zuko couldn't tell.

"Uh..yeah. Uncle Iroh likes Jasmine best, but there are other types."

"Oh...well what kind do you like?"

Zuko scratched his head.

"I-uh, I'm not sure. "

Silence.

"Ok, well anything you like is fine."

She sounded tired, probably already exhausted with his insistence. He sped off to the kitchen before he could say anything else stupid. He held up the pot on the table; finding it empty. He groaned, looking outside at the storm and deciding to gather some fresh water. His hand wrapped around the door knob, and he held the pot out to the rain.

When he turned to head back inside, his hair was matted around his head in a sticky mass of black. He ignored the droplets drizzling into his eyes, and heated the pot in his hands. As soon as he was certain it was hot enough, he snatched a random jar from the shelf and dropped the mix into the pot.

The water, steaming from his hands, smelled of flowers and roses. Zuko hesitated, considering if he should pick something less girly.

A chill ran up his spine, and a sudden rush of warmth surrounded his body. He turned to look over his shoulder and saw Katara bending the water off of him.

"Thanks," He said.

She didn't respond, instead walked to the door and took the excess water outside. The door slammed behind her, and she was back inside, holding her arms around herself. She always seemed so cold.

Zuko handed her a small cup, pouring tea into it, hoping it would warm her up. She held her nose over the cup, inhaling the steam. He watched the sleepiness of her features; the way her eyes held shut with each blink just a moment longer than they should have. He didn't want to directly ask her what was going on. Last time he had tried to ask her how she was, she snapped. She seemed peaceful now, why disturb her?

"What is it?" She asked, her tone soft, her eyes friendly.

She took a sip of her tea, and Zuko clutched his cup to cover his nerves.

"If-if you're looking for Uncle, he's taking care of a friend away," Zuko said quickly.

She nodded.

"Well, I didn't know that, but I wasn't looking for Iroh," She said, her words sharpening slightly.

Zuko scratched his head, trying to think of a response that would help her relax.

"Okay. So you came here to sleep then? Because this is a pretty good place for that," He said, motioning around the empty shop.

She laughed a little, shaking her head.

"No, Zuko. I didn't come here to sleep."

His eyebrow twitched. He desperately wanted to know why she had come-he knew it wasn't for him, there was no way she had known he would be here-but he still held the hope that perhaps for some reason, she had known.

She held a hand to her head, closing her eyes and releasing a deep breath.

"Are you-are you alright?" He asked, holding his hand out to touch her forehead.

She snatched his wrist from the air, and again the sharpness was back in her gaze; turning the soft sapphire blue into piercing diamond.

"I'm _fine_, Zuko. Can you stop looking at me like a wounded animal and treat me like a person?"

He pulled his hand away, the tight grip of her fingers against him unfamiliar. He had remembered her so long as gentle and soft as a light drizzle of rain; now she was as rigid and wild as the storm outside. The storm that washed him away.

"Why are you here?" He said, his voice low, meeting the sharpness in her gaze with his own.

She faltered for a moment, the sharpness softening, and Zuko almost softened his own gaze. She turned away from him, and her hand instinctively went to her collarbone; the place she always wore her mother's necklace. It was absent now.

"Katara?" He repeated.

She shook her head.

"Do you have a messenger hawk here?"

Zuko staggered slightly, surprised.

"A messenger hawk? No, I don't."

She sighed again.

"No? Of course not. I don't know why there would be."

She turned to head back outside, and he seized her wrist. Her glare was back, cold as ice, her lips pressed into a sharp line.

"Let go of me," She growled.

"Where are you going?" He demanded.

She yanked her arm away.

"It's none of your business, Zuko."

He set his cup down and crossed his arms.

"You're probably right. It's not my business."

She rolled her eyes, but his gaze was hot on hers now, fiery with irritation.

"You're avoiding the truth, Katara. Why did you come here?"

"I don't have to tell you anything, Zuko. I can do whatever I want," She said, her jaw tightened.

"I thought you wanted to marry Aang."

And he had gone to far. She froze up, the heat dissolving in her features, the ice in her eyes melting away.

"I don't want to talk to you anymore," She said without any emotion.

She walked back to her room, and Zuko listened to each of her footsteps as they dissolved down the hall. The door didn't slam; it shut gently, only a tiny click signifying it's close. Zuko sighed and dipped his head into his hands. _Why did she want a messenger hawk? Where was she going? Why was she here?_

He hated that he had shut her down. All he wanted was to know her secrets, and now he had upset her more than when she arrived.

He stood, dipping his hand into his pocket and pulling out the pale bead he had kept there for so many years.

He walked quietly to Katara's door, kneeling down and placing the bead on the floor. He lightly pushed it forward, and it rolled into her room.

He pressed his ear against the door frame; she hadn't seemed to notice. In fact, her even breathing made Zuko certain she was asleep. He shook his head and stood up. She would never realize the significance of the bead he had kept in his pocket.


	5. Strike of Lightning

Katara woke up at the sound of chatter; loud, unbridled, chatter in the shop. At first, she was terrified. She had woken up to noise-was it her wedding day? Panic pushed her heart rate into the hundreds, and she didn't move for a moment.

She pressed her eyes together as she sat up. There was a sweet smell in the air, warm and soft. When she opened her eyes, she located her feet on a small yellow rug, fuzzy and comforting. The scent in the air was tea; warm and appealing, begging her to open the door and invite more inside.

She leaned her ear against the thick wooden door frame, trying to make out conversations amongst the ruckus. Finally, there was a sharp strike of lightning, and everyone went silent. Even Katara felt chills slither up her spine.

She went to the window, realizing that the storm had continued; it was now day two of the rage. She groaned, sitting down at the desk and running her comb through her hair. Usually, there were thick tangles, impossible and painful to break through. Now, her hair was slick and smooth. The bath had definitely helped.

Her eyes searched the room for comfort in it's unfamiliarity; the dull shine through the window; the silky green blankets; the sketches of her friends decorating the room. Absentmindedly, she noticed a reflective object on the ground and kneeled down to pick it up.

A small gasp forced its way from her lips-and she held her breath. It was her bead-the one that had gone missing all that time ago, during the war. The bead that had been in her hair for years, that had disappeared, that she had always wondered about. Here it was.

She wondered if it had been on the floor there the whole time and she never noticed. Perhaps she had been too careless with her surroundings before. She hadn't noticed things that were right there.

She beaded her hair again, looping her hair again before pulling on a silky emerald gown. She stepped outside the room, looking down the hall carefully, taking gentle steps toward the crowd.

Compared to the dark hall, the shop was bright with candles and lanterns. Zuko stood at the head of the table, his dark hair combed neatly down his neck. His scar was a dark splotch on his face, but whatever impact it left was diminished by the beautiful smile decorating his lips.

He laughed as he poured tea, walking around to each of the customers-and there were less than Katara had anticipated. She had assumed maybe twenty or more people were there, but really it was only about ten or twelve.

She leaned against the doorframe, watching Zuko in his contentment. His eyes, amber bright, remained focused on the pot in his hand as he moved around. More thunder sounded, followed by a strike of lightning, and the crowd again went silent.

His eyes were sharp in that moment, as he ravaged through the room. They eventually fell on Katara, seeming to calm down for a moment. But the smile was gone. Far away, now.

He set the pot down and walked over to her.

"Good morning," He said.

"Afternoon, more like, isn't it?" She replied.

He shrugged, not meeting her eyes.

"Um, Uncle wrote me again, letting me know his friend has taken a turn for the worse."

His eyes met hers for just a moment; a moment that stretched on as the pain in his eyes was clear.

"He won't be recovering, so Uncle will stay with him until...until he dies. He won't be able to go to the wedding."

Katara felt sick. When she had woken up she had thought she could be on her way to the ceremony. Now, here she was, across the world, and she still felt as though she could still be dragged down the aisle as if it were the next room.

She hated that Zuko was still talking about the wedding like it was going to happen. Hated knowing that as of now, no one knew she was disappearing. Least of all, Aang. He deserved to know first. It was the right thing to do.

"Anyway..the messenger hawk that delivered the letter is still here, because I thought you had a letter you wanted to deliver?"

Katara nearly gasped at the opportunity.

"Yes, thank you. I really need that."

She realized how curt she was being when Zuko had just disclosed an unfortunate situation.

"And, I'm sorry about your uncle's friend."

He nodded to himself, turned, and went back to work. As Katara remained to watch him, she noticed that initial glow was gone. Now he was just mechanically serving tea. Yet another thing she had ruined.

She sighed and returned to her room, pulling out a brush and ink. With the parchment in front of her, the brush in her hand, she paused. She knew she would have to tell Aang the wedding was off, known since the moment she left the South Pole-but now that she was actually here, writing the message, she didn't know what to say.

_Aang_,

_I don't know how to say this to you. You're my best friend, and I trust you more than anyone, but I'm not ready to marry you._

She shook her head, biting her lip.

_It's not because I don't love you. I always have, and I always will. I'm just not sure if I love you that way._

She growled in frustration and tore the section off; throwing it into the trash bin by her bed.

_Aang, _

_You know that I've always loved you, and that I always will. But I'm not ready to marry you. I don't know if I ever will be._

She tore it again; before she had a chance to reread it how Aang would interpret it.

_Aang_,

_I cannot marry you. I know the wedding is a few days away, and this must seem insane, but I know you have too much faith in me to assume I have left for this reason. But I have. _

This one was better so far. She kept writing.

_I hope you will understand that I have always loved you. The truth is, I'm just not sure if it's the way you want me to. _

Was she being too harsh? She continued scribbling down before she changed her mind.

_I hope you can forgive me, you are still my closest friend, and dearest companion. But I will not be returning for a while. You will probably be angry with me, and I hope you are. I deserve it._

_Katara_

With the letter finished, she rolled it up before she could read over it. She didn't need to imagine his reading of it. It was only going to be more painful, and it might stop her from sending the letter at all.

She marched back out into the shop, straight to Zuko.

"Where's the messenger hawk?" She demanded.

He pointed to the window in the kitchen, where her shawl had become the bed of a scruffy looking hawk. She approached, and he cawed at her, his eyes fixed on the roll of parchment in her hand.

She patted him affectionately, and he cooed at her softly before she pushed the roll into the holder on his back.

"South Pole," She whispered.

She pushed the window open, and he fluttered to life, his dark wings bright against the white sky.

She closed the window at his absence, walking back through the shop. She turned to gaze at Zuko again, noticing that he was watching her. He turned away.

"Zuko," She said quickly, and his posture straightened up, though he did not turn back to her.

"Zuko, I'm sorry I've been sharp with you."

He didn't answer her; instead continued to walk back to the kitchen. The crowd in the shop was lessening with every minute. The storm had intensified around them so that thunder continued to murmur against the walls, and lightning continued to whiten the world.

She decided to follow him, since there were only two or three people left. She needed to apologize, and though she felt cruel for writing the letter, it also set her free. She could now say whatever she needed to say.

He set the tray he had been carrying down, and leaned over the sink. His hands were pressed flat against the counter, bright white as if he were pushing them down hard.

"Zuko," She repeated.

He continued not to look at her, but this time he almost flinched as she said his name.

"What is it?" He said, his voice void of any emotion.

"I wanted to apologize to you."

He let out a deep breath of air, and turned.

"Apologize? Apologize for what?" He snapped.

She flinched, looking away quickly.

"For being rude."

He scoffed a little, and now she glared up at him, fury behind her eyes.

"Rude. That's one way to put it."

"What do you want me to call it?" She hissed.

Thunder rumbled around them, louder than before.

"Maybe you could call it what it is," He growled, leaning closer to her, his eyes bright with fire.

"And what's that?" She said, not backing away.

More thunder.

"Fear," He whispered.

Every hair on her body straightened up.

"Fear of what?" She argued back.

"Fear that I know the truth."

She crossed her arms.

"And what truth is that?"

His eyes were blazing fire now; scorching and focused.

"That you don't want to marry Aang."

She bit her lip. Had he really known the whole time? Had he never said anything and known _the whole time_? _No_, if he knew, he had watched her suffer, _allowed_ her to suffer, waiting for the fire inside her to die out.

"Then why didn't you say anything?" She demanded.

He flinched this time, backing away.

"I..didn't.." He stammered.

"If you knew," She said, coldness back in her tone, "If you knew I was miserable, and just watched me suffer, then maybe you are a monster."

Zuko dove forward at her, and Katara lifted her arms to protect herself; surprised when lightning struck through the roof; bright light stabbing into the ground where she had just been standing.

She relaxed her arms, and Zuko held her tighter against himself. He had snatched her and rolled so that he would take the brunt of the landing. For a moment, they just lied there together, in the aftershock of nearly dying. Then Zuko lifted her off of him and stood. He walked over to where the lightning had struck, kneeling down to examine the damage.

"How did you know lightning was coming?" She asked.

He didn't answer her, instead wiped his fingers against the dark ash.

"How did you know?" She asked again, angry now, "Did you summon it?"

He sighed, sitting down.

"Did you?" She shouted again.

"I don't know!" He yelled.

He was curled forward, his shoulders slouching into his chest.

"I don't know if I did," his voice was quiet now, even against the rain that fell onto him from the large space in the roof.

"How don't you know?" She said, her voice softer.

He stood, turned, and faced her.

"Because it's you," He said.

She stumbled for words; what did he mean _it's you_?

"Because I've only been able to summon lightning because of you," He mumbled.

His eyes were vulnerable, broken flames fallen to embers.

"Because-because of me?" She repeated.

He shook his head and walked past her, his side brushing against her shoulder.

"You should stay away," He said, "You're right, I am a monster."

She turned to reach out to him, but he shrugged her off, walking through the empty shop, back down the hall, back to his room, leaving Katara alone.


	6. Seeking Stratus

He was in his room two minutes before Katara knocked. He tried to ignore her, closing his eyes and praying he had imagined it. Praying he hadn't told her the lightning was because of her. She couldn't know that-what would she think if she knew?

The knock sounded again, loud and anxious, and Zuko turned to the door, anger at his weakness sparking up. He yanked the door open, his glare locating Katara instantly.

"I told you to stay away," He said, his voice low.

She rolled her eyes.

"I told you, I do what I want."

"And you want to talk to me?" He growled.

He hated that he was behaving this way. Why were they so angry at each other all the time? How could he care about her so much if he made it seem like he hated her? He knew there was no way she could care about him if he behaved this way. There was just no way.

"You make it hard," She acknowledged, nodding to herself, "But so do I."

She looked up at him with those sapphire eyes, and for the first time in a long time, he noticed kindness in them.

"I was trying to apologize without acknowledging the issue," She said, almost to herself, "You're right. I ran away from my problems because they were too much."

She held his gaze, entirely vulnerable.

"I don't want to marry Aang, I haven't ever, really. I just didn't want to hurt him. Instead, I lied to him."

She let out a deep breath of air.

"I made it worse."

He held his breath, watching the tremble of her shoulders as she spoke.

"I came here to talk to Iroh-I thought maybe he could tell me what to do, but he wasn't here, and I blamed it on you," She hesitated, looking away, though Zuko could see the rest of her words were in her head, ready to be spoken, "I blamed everything on you."

His bones pressed together, a cage for his heartbeat as it picked up the pace.

"Why?" He asked.

She shrugged, though Zuko felt like she knew.

"It's easier-I've always been able to blame things on you in the past," She said.

"Easier than admitting why you don't want to marry Aang?" He asked, already chiding himself for his harshness.

She sighed.

"Maybe."

"So why don't you?" He asked, before he could stop himself.

She shook her head.

"I'm not ready for that," She replied.

"Ready for what?" He asked.

"Ready to answer that question. It will change too many things."

"Like what?"

She shook her head, more strict this time.

"I'm just not ready. Maybe in a day, or a week, or something."

She turned and walked away.

"Katara?" He called, "Is that why you wrote the letter?"

She didn't answer.

"You told Aang you weren't going to marry him?"

Again, no answer. He heard her door shut slowly, but noticed that she didn't lock it. He wandered out into the kitchen, debating whether or not to show her the gift he made her in the beginning. The gift he couldn't give her in front of anyone because as soon as they saw it, they would know.

Now she wasn't even getting married-why would he give her a gift if she wasn't getting married?

He decided against it, instead assessing the damage done by the lightning in the kitchen. It was still raining, but it was a light drizzle now; the thunder and lightning had ceased.

There was a lumber shop not too far; he decided he could buy some wood and fix the roof-though how he could do that during the rain he was unsure about.

"Katara? I'm heading into town, just wanted to let you know," He said from the shop.

She didn't answer, so he left. He found the lumber shop a few blocks down, though it was mostly deserted from the ongoing storm. A single small woman sat inside, flipping a coin back and forth.

"Hi," Zuko said, "I need to buy some wood to fix a roof, and a part of the floor."

The woman raised an eyebrow at him.

"Wood for a roof? Yeah, alright. Are you sure you know how to fix things?"

"I can figure it out," He said.

The woman snorted.

"Alright, if you're sure, young man. You seem to have a _very certain_ energy about you."

He didn't know quite how to take that, but she showed him some thinned out wood, and he bought enough to patch up the roof. He would fix the floor later, he decided.

When he returned to the shop, Katara was outside with her shawl on, holding a basket.

"Katara-where are you going?" He asked.

"Just to feed Appa."

She scurried by, and he would have caught her arm, but he was carrying all the wood he had just purchased.

In the shop, he swept up the ash and broken shards of wood, ignoring the water running down his cheeks from the light drizzle. He tossed up several of the planks, tying a hammer to his belt. Gazing up at the breached roof, he jumped up and caught the edge before pulling himself up.

He hammered the wood over the gap; not caring much for the shoddy work. He knew he could have someone fix it but at the moment he didn't really think it was a good idea to bring a stranger into the mix.

When the wood adequately covered the hole, he slid down the side of the roof onto the balcony. He stood there for a moment, looking over the rainy town, but his eyes caught on a white mountain of fur, walking down the city.

Katara was next to Appa, moving rain out of his way and throwing food to him. She was alone aside from him; but she seemed happy. She was laughing and tossing her arms around. Rain followed her movements in beautiful harmony.

He wanted to call out to her, join in with her playing, but he shook his head. She wanted some alone time. He walked back inside, setting up a pot to brew more tea. He was kneeling over to set up a fire, when a sharp pain in his back sent him tumbling forward. He groaned, turning his head to see what caused him to fall. His hasty woodwork-it had collapsed over him while he was working in the kitchen. He gasped, turning his head back down quickly as more pieces of wood broke off and came down onto him.

The impact pressed him against the floor. He struggled to lift himself up, finding that even plank position kept too much weight on his back. He collapsed back into the floor, yelling in frustration at his inability to get up.

He stayed put against the ground for hours. His head throbbed; he closed his eyes, trying to ignore the pain, but rain continued drizzling down, dripping onto his head to wake him up every other minute.

Just when the buzzing in his body was beginning to stop, the door opened and shut quietly, as if the wind had accidentally opened it.

"Katara," he said, with as much voice as he could.

She gasped, and he could vaguely hear her footsteps getting closer at a quickening pace. His head was lifted onto her palms ever so gently, and he remembered again why he thought of her in the rain.

"Hold still," She warned, her voice strategic and direct.

She pulled her hands toward her, and a gathering of rainwater funneled together. She swung her arms in a circle, and the funnel became a steady stream, wrapping around the wooden planks that had caved in. Then she threw her fingers out, and stakes of ice forced the wood posts off of Zuko.

She kneeled down, wrapping her arm under his arms and lifting up his shoulders. He tried to step forward, but his back was weak, and he toppled forward. Katara caught him, supporting him as she pulled him down the hall, into her room. He wanted to tell her not to get her room dirty because of him, but his voice caught in his throat.

She set him down on the bed, on his stomach, audibly surprised at the damage done to his back.

"It's bad, huh?"

"It's fine," She said firmly, always affirming hope in her patients.

He heard her hands move around, and felt cold water on his back. He whimpered, biting his lip to shut himself up.

"Sorry," She whispered, "I should have given you a warning."

"It's alright," He said, "It's not your fault I stupidly nailed a bunch of boards to the roof thinking that would solve the problem."

She laughed a little to herself, moving her hands slowly against his spine.

"It's not so stupid," She assured, "I'm very familiar with hasty solutions."

The cold left his back, and her hands moved to his shoulders. She slowly turned him over, so he was face up. His eyes drifted to hers, and he could see the strength in them, the threshold for breaking deep inside, impossible to find. She could hold hope forever, not letting fear shine through even a crevice.

"Katara?" Zuko asked.

Her brow was tense against her eyes as she moved her hands around, collecting water. She placed her fingers against his temples, and cold water silenced the throbbing of his head.

"Yes?" She replied.

"How do you always have hope?" He asked.

The concentration was absent in her gaze for a moment, and a lost look took over.

"I don't always have hope."

"So you didn't lead your friends from the middle of the desert when they all wanted to give up? You didn't save a town full of starving people by pretending to be a spirit? You didn't save the avatar's life when all hope was lost but yours?"

He saw her bite her lip for a moment, thinking of a response.

"I guess it's easier to be hopeful for other people. When other people need hope, I can supply it easy, because I have hope for them."

She shook her head.

"But I don't have hope for myself, not anymore."

"Why?"

She laughed a little.

"Because having hope for other people means I can be what they need to have hope. And.." She froze, lifting her hands, placing them absentmindedly on his shoulders, near his rapid pulse, "...when Aang needed me, I couldn't let him down."

Her eyes located his again.

"It's interesting, because I always feel like you have so much hope for yourself."

He scoffed.

"I've never had hope for myself."

He leaned forward, trying to stand up, and Katara placed her hand on his chest, just over his heart.

"You need rest, Zuko. I can only accelerate your healing so much."

He sighed, lying back down.

"What about you? Don't you need sleep?"

She gave him a sideways smile.

"I'm pretty good at staying up, in case you've forgotten."

He kept his eyes on her, though they felt weak with exhaustion.

"Katara," Zuko said softly, and she tilted her head at him, "Thank you for having hope for me."

Though he slipped into sleep, he could feel her fingers lacing through his, and barely heard a mumble escape her lips like a sweet lullaby.


	7. The Trailing Breeze

Katara woke up around sunrise, frustrated that she had allowed herself to fall asleep, and embarrassed that she had been curled against Zuko, with her head on his shoulder. Her mind had been at peace; no dreams nor nightmares to call her to consciousness-so what had woken her up?

She paused, sitting up, drinking in the silence. She was about to lie back down when there was a knock at the door-loud and hasty. Her breath caught in her throat-why would someone knock on the door at this time?

She secured her belt around her waist; the bottle already full of water. As she approached the door, she could recognize mumblings on the other side. Mumblings that, to any other person would sound insane. But to her, they were the familiar whispers of her brother. _Sokka was on the other side of the door_.

Thick and heavy dread filled her veins like lead. He was muttering still, whispering rapidly, in a frustrated tone. Katara swallowed with difficulty, frozen in fear. _He knows I'm here. He knows I'm here. He knows. _

The muttering slowed down, and the silence frightened her. Sokka was only ever silent when he was plotting. Katara turned to rush down the hall, but immediately crashed into Zuko, who carefully held her shoulders, a look of concern on his face.

"Hide in my room," He whispered, and she nodded quickly, rushing down the hall. She locked the door and sighed, leaning against the wooden frame.

* * *

Zuko pressed his thumb against the knob of the door and pulled. The doorway was empty; nothing but cold morning air seeping entrance and coddling his skin.

He took a step outside and looked around skeptically, his eyebrows digging into his eyes with concern. Katara had looked terrified, as if her worst nightmare had come to face her. Surely Aang was there. Surely Zuko would have to lie to the Avatar and tell him Katara was not there; that she had run off and that Zuko had no idea where she was or that she was even missing.

"Zuko?"

Zuko stifled the surprise; locating the voice above him. He took three steps forward and turned to face the shop. Sokka was sitting on the edge of the roof, with his legs hanging down and kicking out.

"Sokka? What are you doing here?" Zuko asked, trying not to sound irritated by the abrupt awakening.

Sokka hopped down, meandering over.

"I'm surprised you're here, actually. Don't you have a kingdom to run?"

Zuko tried to fight down the anger at the rudeness of the comment.

"I'm watching the shop for Uncle. What are you doing here?" He said quickly, his words short and forced.

Sokka crossed his arms, and Zuko noticed that his right hand nudged a script rolled and bundled against his chest. _A letter_. Had Katara written the letter to Sokka? Maybe she expected Sokka? _No,_ Zuko decided, _She would have greeted him gladly if she was expecting him_. _And she hid. Why would she hide unless she was afraid?_

"Have you seen Katara?" Sokka asked.

Zuko was not a talented liar. He was passible, but barely. Even when he hid in the Earth Kingdom with Iroh, he had difficulty lying about himself or his life. Usually people asked about his scar, and even if he told the truth, it made him sick. Lying was not something he excelled at, but neither was truth telling. Both made things uncomfortable and tension-filled.

"Why?" Zuko asked, trying to evade the question with false concern, "Isn't the wedding tomorrow?"

Sokka shook his head.

"Two days from today, actually. But that's not important right now. I saw her fly off on Appa, and Appa is here. Have you seen her?"

Zuko scratched the back of his neck.

"Appa is here? Here where?" He tried.

"In the stables not too far from the shop. Remember Aang befriended that zookeeper? Well he keeps Appa for him when he's in town."

"I didn't know," Zuko said, keeping his tone calm.

Sokka raised an eyebrow at him. Zuko knew it was risky to lie to Sokka of all people-last time he had been unhinged; dealing with loss and painful emotion. However, when he wasn't in a crisis, he was one of the sharpest people Zuko knew, second maybe only to Azula. And that wasn't a thought Zuko liked to linger on.

"Well can I take a look inside? Maybe she's hiding or something. I know she wouldn't leave Appa if she wasn't close."

Zuko nodded, his heartbeat picking up. What if Sokka found her? What would happen? What would happen is Sokka found her _in his room_? Would Zuko become his enemy? An enemy to all of Team Avatar?

* * *

Katara couldn't hear much, she had instead taken to sitting at Zuko's desk and trying to calm down. Her nerves were on fire-if Sokka found her, he'd take her back to the South Pole. He'd take her back and drag her down the aisle if he needed to. It was a terrible thought, but fear forced Katara to hold onto it; forced her to keep her eyes open despite the heavy weight of her face begging her to sleep.

She twisted her fingers around, pressing them against the wooden table, then lifting them. She rested her head against her knuckle, and looked over the walls of the room. Unlike hers, it wasn't covered with pictures of people, but with objects.

Masks, oddly enough to her. Blue ones, green ones, yellow ones, even a single red one decorated with gold. Above his bed there were a pair of swords crossing one another, above them a specific blue mask that seemed vaguely familiar. _The Blue Spirit_, she remembered. She had pretended to be a spirit too, once. She thought it strange while Zuko relied it the alter ego for secrecy and safety, she used it to help people. She needed the grateful response, the kudos, even if it wasn't spoken to her specifically. It gave her a sense of power, that she could help all those people, that she alone could heal them and save them.

Zuko had saved Aang, though it was for himself, he still had saved someone dear to her, and thus had saved her and Sokka because of it. She wondered how he thought of her then. Was it with the same hatred she thought of him with? Or was it something else? Something he didn't understand at the time. Some sort of begrudging respect and intrigue; something that drew him to her; something that drew her to him. Some sort of heat hidden beneath the cold; the lightning hiding in the clouds; the spark of life that could burn down an entire forest.

There was a knife on the stand beside his bed, something she hadn't seen before. It was encased in a dark binding, and she felt a desire to pull it out and stare at the blade, but as she stepped closer, she saw something else-something tucked between the bed and the stand, something pale and blue and silvery in the bare light of morning.

She reached down to retrieve it, carefully pulling it out so as not to damage it.

It was another mask, she realized. But it was not the same as the blue spirit mask. This was more carefully crafted, more delicately colored. Katara ran her fingers over the bright silver eyes. She turned it and held it over her face, wondering if it would fit. Then she paused; a small piece of paper tumbled out, onto the floor.

She kneeled down to reach it, carefully unfolding it in her fingers.

_To Katara-_

She almost gasped, but outside the door, she could hear footsteps-she didn't have time to read the entire thing. She pressed the mask back into it's wedge, tucking the note into her sleeve, and hurried back to the door to listen.

* * *

"Was her room this messy when you got here?" Sokka asked, his voice subtle and stiff as he looked over the ruffled bed covers and drenched carpet.

Zuko scratched his neck again.

"I think so. I don't know for sure, I don't really check the other rooms."

Sokka narrowed his eyes and moved in on her desk. He sat down and picked up her bush, examining the bristles and pulling out strands of hair. He muttered something to himself, but Zuko couldn't make out what he said. Then his eyes caught on something else-her trash bin. Zuko froze as he saw her writing fresh and new, crumpled into balls of garbage.

Since Sokka was still enamored by her brush, Zuko kept a steady eye on his back, and threw his hand forward, shooting a single spark into the metal bin. A small blaze coughed to life; but Zuko kept steady watch over it, watching her words melt to ash. When he was certain all her drafts were gone, he swept his hand over it carefully and killed the fire.

Sokka sighed and stood up, and Zuko straightened up, pretending he hadn't just messed with the trash.

"Zuko, you were there for me when I needed someone, and I feel like I can trust you, so I'm going to tell you what's going on."

He pulled out the letter, and held it out to him. Zuko hesitated. Did Katara want him reading something so personal? He doubted it, but Sokka was watching him with calculating blue eyes-the same look Katara had when she was working out her next attack. He couldn't risk showing a lack of curiosity when Sokka needed to see it.

He unfurled the letter, and his eyes ran over her soft strokes of ink.

_Aang_,

_I cannot marry you. I know the wedding is a few days away, and this must seem insane, but I know you have too much faith in me to assume I have left for this reason. But I have. I hope you will understand that I have always loved you. The truth is, I'm just not sure if it's the way you want me to. I hope you can forgive me, you are still my closest friend, and dearest companion. But I will not be returning for a while. You will probably be angry with me, and I hope you are. I deserve it._

_Katara_

He didn't give himself time to think over the words; he simply rolled it back up, and handed it back to Sokka.

"She left a few nights ago," Sokka said softly, "I was still awake, and I heard her talking to Appa, but by the time I got outside, she was already flying away."

He shook his head, as if frustrated with his lack of timing.

"I requested an airship the next morning and followed after her. About a day ago, I intercepted a messenger hawk with this message."

Zuko tried to keep himself steady.

"So Aang doesn't know," Zuko said.

Sokka shook his head.

"No, and he's not going to. I have three days to find Katara and bring her back, and I intend to."


	8. Sunlight Peeks Through

"You're going to force her to marry Aang?"

Zuko could hardly contain himself.

"She doesn't want to marry Aang! She made that clear with the letter!"

Sokka folded his arms.

"And do you have a better idea why that might be? Someone _else _she wants to marry instead?"

Zuko glared at Sokka, and he flashed back to the sleepy boy that took him to the engagement party a year ago.

"_Said she was interested in someone else. Said she'd always have a special piece of her heart reserved for me but…"_

* * *

The silence had stretched too long. Zuko had been pondering how to respond-how to persuade Sokka into returning without Katara, into _letting her stay_. But his mind had already pushed out his frustration and thoughts. Though he hadn't spoken his true thoughts, the idea of allowing Sokka to take Katara away was taking a physical toll on him. His breathing was increasing, his bones were shaking.

"Zuko?" Sokka said, looking him up and down, "Do you have any thoughts on what I just said? I only have three days to bring her back."

Zuko forced himself to nod.

"Yeah, I guess I'm just confused."

Sokka tilted his head.

"Confused why?"

"She just said she didn't want to marry Aang. You're going to force her to marry him?"

Sokka threw his arms up, a look of surrender on his face.

"I'm not going to force her into anything. But this letter-it's crazy!"

His eyes became wild, his knuckles tense as they gripped the letter. Zuko didn't speak. He watched the wheels spin in Sokka's head.

"She loves Aang! She even says she's always loved him in the letter!"

He let out an exasperated breath of air.

"Zuko, you have to admit that this is out of nowhere-she's just getting cold feet. I'm here to be a good big brother and remind her that she loves him and she's-she's just being crazy!"

Zuko leveled his gaze with Sokka.

"Sokka, I don't think it's cold feet," He said.

Sokka's eyes narrowed.

"What makes you so sure?"

Zuko bit his lip. He couldn't tell Sokka what he had seen from Katara, couldn't explain what she told him without revealing that she was here.

"She just looked _unwell_ at the party. I guess I thought you would have noticed-but you were _unwell_ yourself."

Sokka glared.

"Do you want Aang to be unwell too?"

Zuko didn't speak; he listened to Sokka's uneven breathing; rapid intakes and short exhales. This was not about Katara.

"Sokka," Zuko said softly, almost a whisper, "She's not Suki."

Sokka's nose twitched at her name; his eyes remained just as icy.

"Where is Katara?"

Zuko kept his eyes on Sokka, unbending. It was Sokka who looked away, turning his head to search all directions of the room.

"You've been lying to me, Zuko. I know she's here."

Zuko absentmindedly scratched his neck, but his irritation made the scratches jagged and sharp; unpleasantly painful against his skin. Sokka pointed to him, the ice gone, but the calculation back.

"Don't say anything. You scratch your neck when you're about to lie."

Sokka straightened up, turned, and left the room. Zuko waited a moment, and followed after him.

"Sokka, you can't force her to marry him!"

Sokka turned, and Zuko could see the same broken glass in his eyes; the same shattered smile unspoken.

"I'm not forcing her into anything. She wants to marry him, Zuko. She's just forgotten."

Sokka's hand wrapped around the knob of Zuko's door. Zuko imagined Katara, frozen in terror at the door, shaken up by the thought of her brother arriving. He was not going to let him take her.

He threw himself forward, his back reminding him of the wood that had collapsed onto him yesterday; his muscles rusted and weak. He snatched the handle as Sokka held on, heating his hands so the metal became too hot. Sokka cried out and yanked his hand away; turning to glare at Zuko.

"Zuko, let me in!" Sokka shouted.

Zuko kept his hand on the hot metal, ignoring the familiar sensation of getting burnt.

"If she wants to marry him, she'll go back on her own," Zuko growled back.

Sokka stared at him in disbelief.

"Katara!" He called, "Katara come out now!"

Zuko could hear her on the other side; imagined her delicate hands reaching for the handle to find it steaming.

"Don't touch the knob!" Zuko yelled.

There was a soft sound, in surprise, but not in pain. As Zuko released the knob, he saw Sokka approach, his leg raising to kick down the door. But water flowed from beneath, immediately freezing over into a thick sheet of ice. Sokka gasped as he slipped and landed on his butt. Zuko watched his feet carefully; making sure he wouldn't follow a similar fate.

"Back away from the door," She said, her voice calm but slightly sped with anxiety.

Zuko did as she asked; hearing ice sizzling against hot metal, then watching the door open suddenly, in a burst of water.

She looked lively as ever; a shining light in her eyes that had been absent for a long time.

"Sokka," She ordered, her voice clear and strong, "You're going back to the South Pole."

Sokka looked up at her, and for the first time, he seemed shaken off track.

"You're supposed to marry Aang," He said, his tone accusing.

"I was," She said, "But I won't."

The light disappeared in her eyes for a moment, replaced by a sadness that reminded Zuko of his dreams. Then she looked at him, and the sadness disappeared. The brightness was back, hidden in storm clouds like a spark of lightning.

"I am not in love with Aang," She said softly, her eyes tender as they examined her brother. She sighed a little, but continued to keep her composure as she kneeled down to him.

"I wished I was for the longest time," she whispered, "But you can't give your heart to someone it doesn't belong to."

She held her hand out to him.

"Katara," Sokka mumbled, his eyes wide on her, as if seeing her for the first time in years. Zuko wondered if he could finally see how skinny she was; how hopeless she had felt. He wondered if he finally understood that she had been eaten alive from the inside out by the engagement.

"I just wanted you to have the best," Sokka said, almost quiet enough that Zuko couldn't hear.

She wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly against her. He was hesitant at first, but his arms found their way around her back, and he relaxed, the tension leaving his shoulders.

"It's going to be okay," She promised.

She pulled away at last, Sokka took her hand, and she helped him stand. For a moment, Sokka's eyes landed on Zuko, and a realization seemed to pass over them.

"I'll take Appa back," Sokka said, turning to the door.

"No," Katara said.

Sokka raised an eyebrow.

"No? Katara, if you want to stay here, leaving Appa isn't a good idea. Aang will come for him eventually-"

"I know," Katara said, and she spoke freely, as if all her fears were a distant memory, "I was a coward to run away. And I am not a coward. Aang deserves the truth. Face to face."

Sokka's eyebrows moved together.

"Then I'll write him and tell him to come down here. I don't want you to face him alone."

She smiled reassuringly.

"I won't be alone."

Sokka sighed, and nodded to himself.

"I guess then I'll go meet Toph. I was supposed to take her to the wedding anyway."

Sokka's hand was tight around Katara's; protective. He didn't want to go.

"After I talk to Aang," Katara said, "Why don't you both come up? We can have a nice long, boring visit."

She laughed a little, and Sokka smiled at her.

"Alright. Sounds like a plan."

He turned and left through the door, but Zuko couldn't forget the way he had looked at him a few minutes ago, as if he were someone else, someone much more important.

* * *

Katara watched him as he walked away, smiled each time he turned back to see her still watching him, until he melted into the distance. She sighed to herself, her hands warm, her cheeks warm, her body the warmest it had been in years. She felt like she was glowing, bright as the sun.

With the door open, her eyes focused on the sky, still covered in clouds, but with crevices of blue sky poking through. The most brilliant of all the light, a rainbow hung over, half alive, half dead as the sun flickered behind clouds.

She could feel Zuko's eyes on her, a steady stream of warmth. But warmer than his eyes, his words burned in her mind, the note opened and read carefully, resting in her sleeve.


	9. The Settling of the Storm

"It's going to be cold."

"I remember."

"I just wanted to give you a heads up."

Zuko closed his eyes; Katara held his hand in hers. With her other hand, she bent water around the burn. The water was still cold as he anticipated, but her hand was warm. He felt like asking her what had changed so suddenly. How had she gone from such terror to such confidence?

He opened his eyes and watched her features. There was a new softness he hardly recognized. Even when she had healed his heart-there had been maybe a flicker, but the last time he had seen such sincerity was in the caverns, with nothing but the light of crystals.

Her eyes flicked up at him, and there it was again, unprecedented warmth.

Her other hand rested, returning the water to the bottle. Her lips were pressed into a line; not an angry or frustrated one, but something to conceal her thoughts. Zuko didn't know where to start-how to ask her what had changed-how to say anything to her.

She sat so still; holding his hand in hers even though she was done healing.

"Katara," He began, choosing his words carefully, _What happened?_ He wanted to ask. _What made you so ready to face Aang?_

Her eyes were on him again, the darkest of blues somehow not cold or hot, but perfectly warm. He felt warmth in his cheeks at such a steady stare, and turned his gaze away.

"I'm sorry," He said quickly, "I tried to cover for you."

She shook her head, and he felt like she wanted him to say something else, something that he had no idea about. His thoughts were confirmed when she set his hand down on the table and stood.

"I should get back to my room," She said, "I need to prepare what to say to Aang."

He reached out and took her wrist quickly, before she could walk off. Her features rose up in surprise.

"Wait," He said, "I don't understand. You were so afraid to talk to Aang before-so afraid to even see Sokka. What happened? Why did you change your mind?"

She gave him a smile, as gentle as rain, and kept her eyes on him.

"It's a secret," She said, softly lifting his fingers from her wrist, "It turns out everyone has them. Even the ones who carry them branded on their face."

She dashed off, and Zuko froze. Was she talking about him? _Even the ones who carry them branded on their face_. She was. She was talking about him.

A chill pressed up against his spine. When warmth returned to his body, it came in the untethered fear of nausea. The inside of his body was alive with terror and sickness, but the outside was still as ice. _Secrets. She knows my secrets. _

_Which secrets does she know?_

He finally convinced his body to move. He rushed to his room, throwing the door forward. His eyes did an emergency check of the layout:his bed was still made, the masks on the wall were untouched, even the swords remained perfectly angled as the first day he hung them. His eyes floated over to the dagger on his bedside table. He marched toward it, remembering how he had left the day before.

It sat the same way, but it had nudged a little, as if someone had moved the surface of the table, not noticing that it caused the knife to slide over. _Not someone._ His breath caught in his throat as the shine of the mask caught his eye.

He pulled the table away from the bed with too much force; practically slamming it into the ground.

The mask tumbled to the floor, bouncing off for a moment, and landing back down face up. He kneeled down and scooped it up. The outside was still brightly colored but dulled with dust from how long it had sat there.

He turned it over, shaking his head because he already knew that it was missing. The note he wrote for Katara was missing. The note he had never intended to give her-the note he pretended he would give her-the note that explained everything about his indecision.

The note that explained how much he loved her.

* * *

He sat leaned against the wall for a few hours, the mask on the ground beside him.

His eyes were closed; he was listening to the patter of rain on the roof, and the drizzle leaking into the kitchen. He would not let himself wonder about Katara, or what Katara was doing. When he opened his eyes and he looked at the mask, he saw her wearing it, staring at him; the blue in her eyes bringing the mask to life so it was more than just paper and paint.

For over a year, he managed to keep it hidden. He intended to give her and Aang a matching set of masks for their wedding. It was the most romantic thing he could think of, because it reminded him of _Love Amongst The Dragons._

His mother told him that she fell in love while gazing through the eyes of a mask, and it seemed beautiful to him; the idea that even wearing disguises, someone could fall in love with the soul underneath.

It would have been disgraceful to pay for something like that. Something so magical and intimate. It had to be made by hand, the beauty had to come from inside. If he gifted it to Aang and Katara from a merchant, it was not the same. It was not the same as Iroh's teapot. It was not a true gift, because it was not true.

Mostly, he couldn't imagine giving something so meaningless to Katara. He imagined her eyes murky with confusion at the sight of something he paid to have made. When he considered making them, he imagined her eyes lighting up. He imagined that she saw through his disguise; that she could fall in love with the soul underneath.

It was a stupid daydream. He knew it was; he admitted it to himself when her mask was done and it shined with adoration-and Aang's mask was nowhere near started. _It's not a gift_, he realized, _It's a plea-it's a cry for her to feel the same way_.

After that, he hid it. He paid for silk from merchants; paid for whatever would be nice but not so nice as to tell the whole story that could never be told.

He opened his eyes again, wrapping his fingers around the mask and holding it up to his face. It was too much. She had seen it, and worse, she had seen the note.

_The note_.

He scrunched his face together again, dropping the mask once more.

He remembered writing the note. It was older than the mask, and it had been hidden longer. Back when he actually believed he could tell her how he felt.

When he realized it, he tried to plan it out, what he would say. He would explain that he understood she was with Aang, but that he would wait for her to think of him in the way he thought of her; when she did, they could run off together. He would easily give up being Fire Lord, and she would be running from the avatar. Of course they would have to run away.

Then he saw them together. Again. And Again. Not once did he ever see Katara alone, not once were they not accompanied by each other. They were always together-and it wore down on him. He realized there was no way Katara could ever see through his disguise. She was perfectly happy seeing Aang bright and radiantly himself.

The note was the little bit of closure he had.

When he sat down to write it, he thought about what he would say to her, how he would say it. Once he explained his feelings, he explained why they were unspeakable; and how he would never confess to them, how he never could.

On rainy days when he thought of her the most, the note was his reminded. He would remember writing it out, and pretended he had already given it to her; pretended it was a secret between the two of them. Because if Katara knew the truth, then she had chosen Aang over him, and he needed to move on.

He never was able to completely convince himself. The vision always slipped away. But it had been enough, he believed, to keep his feelings in check. Now it wasn't a secret anymore. Katara knew. Now she had the ability to answer the question he never could ask.

* * *

She knocked on his door a few hours later. Her voice was soft, he could barely hear her over the rain. He tried to convince himself he was imagining things. Now was not the time to talk to Katara.

She knocked again. He shook his head.

"Go away Katara," He said, irritation creeping into his voice.

"Zuko, I need to talk to you," She said.

His hands pressed against his head, trying to squish it enough to make the world disappear.

"I don't want to talk," He called back.

She was silent for a moment, and he hoped she had left. His hopes were dashed when water flooded beneath the door. There was a single piece of ice, flat, but floating along. He picked it up.

_Zuko-_

_We are going to talk. This is not negotiation. If you are not out of your room and in the shop in fifteen minutes, you will have bigger problems than a flooded room. _

_-Katara_

He sighed, taking the mask from the floor before it was ruined by the water. Apprehensively, he stood and walked to the door. He was surprised to see Katara's shadow just behind the door. It was still. She wasn't moving. Was she waiting for him?

"Zuko?" She said softly.

He didn't reply; staying perfectly still, waiting for her to move. Finally, she sighed and walked away, mumbling about how stubborn he was.

He placed the mask on his bed since it was the only remaining dry spot. He opened the door slowly, peeking carefully around to ensure she was not present. When he was certain she was not around, he left the room, closing the door quickly behind him. She did not need to see the mask again. _Maybe she's already forgotten it_, he hoped.

He changed his mind when he reached the shop. Katara was sitting alone at the central table, her eyes on him. The storm had halted, not even rain broke the silence of the dark room.

In her hands, twisted between her fingers, was the whiteness of parchment. She continued to wring it around her hands, so dark outlines of words brushed on became visible.

Nausea rolled back up through his body.

It was the note.

* * *

_ Hi Everybody, this is the author here, apologizing for the delay :( I've been trying to keep pretty consistent with my postings, but finals wreaked havoc on my writing time, so I apologize for the wait. I appreciate all the support this story has gotten, I love all the reviews! Thank you so much for reading! I will continue to post as regularly as I can._

_-Junie Dreams :)_


	10. The Note

_Katara-_

_If I could explain to you how I feel, you would laugh. I wouldn't mind the laughs, they're one of my favorite sounds. But I can't say how I feel because the words don't belong to me. I'm thankful I can write it down; as long as my secrets are unspoken, they will remain my own. _

_Katara, I thought I hated you. I despised your kindness and your warmth; your courage and your perseverance. I realize now I lacked them; my lack of them was my envy and admiration coated thoroughly with fear of what these qualities would cost me. I believed kindness made you weak, but nothing in the world could make you stronger. That day in the cave-I remember the blankets of ice as the world clamped me unforgivingly in its grasp, forever condemning me to loneliness and isolation. Then you pressed your hand against my cheek, and there was a feeling within that for so long, had been dead. For the first time, I felt something besides anger and desperation. I felt safe. I felt hope. Maybe there was a world I could live in that was gentle and warm; maybe forgiveness was possible. But I was a coward. The softness you revealed to me scared me because it was unfamiliar. When I remember the moment I joined my sister; it blurs by, scorched with the hatred I felt for myself when I saw your eyes. The disappointment burned more than any pain I've ever experienced. I tried to convince myself it was my hatred for you, but a lie so untrue is impossible to tell. _

_When you look at me, all I wonder if the disappointment would return if you knew. If your eyes ever glazed over these words, would all the hatred come back? Has it ever truly gone away? Some days, I have to hope it has. Other days, I have to believe it hasn't; that you despise me. If you despise me, it's easier to live with the knowledge that your heart belongs to someone else. Someone I could never betray; someone I could never ask you to betray. _

_But I am thankful, even if I feel pain. For so long I've felt only anger and fear, but you gave me the gift of hope. Because I hope every day to be a person you can look at with half as much admiration as I look at you. Even if it will never happen, I hold onto that hope. The one gift I can give you back is peace. I will never take away your peace. I will fight to ensure it. I will keep my secret as long as I live, because it's what you deserve. _

_Still, I remember the gentle touch of your fingers and imagine how they would fold against mine. I imagine running my fingers down your hair, pressing my palm against your cheek. I imagine sharing whispers in the night; words meant only for each other. I imagine holding you against my heart, beating only because of you. I imagine kissing you, even if it meant my last breath. If I could have that, any of it, everything would be worth it. All the pain, all the loss, all the betrayal, all the shame. I would endure it all back and over again for you. _

_I wish I woke up before it was too late. I wish you knew, and maybe it would not have been so funny or shameful. Maybe it would have been possible. Maybe it could have been. That's what I will hold onto. What could have been. _

_Yours even if you never know, _

_Zuko_


	11. Where the Sun Meets Rain

Katara sat with her hands on the table. Zuko stared at her with intense focus. She felt electricity caught between them; lifting up her heart but holding her body still. She acted confident when she was nervous, and this time she would allow herself no exception. She was gifted at giving hope; she needed to now.

"Zuko," She said, standing up, tucking the note back into her sleeve.

He kept his gaze fastened onto her. There was cold fire in his eyes; dark and sharp. It made Katara shiver, though she held herself straight and tried to hide it.

"I read your note," She said, keeping her voice bright.

His breathing was heavy, but he didn't speak. She watched his shoulders rise and fall with uncertainty as she spoke. Her hands shook, and she pressed them together to hide it.

"I wanted to talk to you about it. Will you sit down?" She asked.

Zuko continued breathing unevenly as he marched over. For the few moments he moved, he kept his eyes off of her and on the ground instead. When he sat across from her, she sat back down, again folding her hands atop the table. His hands were knotted together; his chest was leaned against the straight edge, his gaze cast down on the table.

"Zuko I-"

"You hate me," he said, under his breath.

She reached for his hand, and he pulled away.

"Why would I hate you?" She asked.

"You should," He said, taking his hands apart and forcing them down against the table.

Katara watched his pale skin turn red as he pressed his fingers underneath his palms.

"Stop that," She said gently.

She reached for him again, and he didn't recoil this time. His skin was hot against hers. She felt like ice against him.

"If you don't want to get burnt," He said softly, "You should stop."

She shook her head.

"I don't mind."

He scoffed.

"You should."

"But I don't."

He managed to tilt his head up enough to meet her eyes, and gently, she pressed her other hand against his face, against his scar. She felt the tightness in his body leave. His eyes softened, and he bit down on his lip.

"Stop," He said quickly, reaching for her wrist.

He tried to pull her off, but when his hand flattened against hers, he stopped. She brushed his bangs from his eyes, and smiled at him. His breathing nearly halted.

"Katara," He whispered. It was a plea, a final warning for her to stop looking at him like this. To take away her gentle touch so he only remembered ferocity. To make it easier for him to suppress what had risen so violently from him; what he had tortured himself with.

She leaned forward, but he stood and walked away, leaving her hand floating where his face was.

She looked up. He was shaking his head from the doorway. His bangs back over his eyes. She stood and jogged after him, and he bolted back into his room. The door slammed shut, and she banged her fists against it.

"Zuko!" She called.

"Stop Katara," He whispered, his voice full of pain.

"Why?" She demanded.

"Because," He said, "If we...if you…" He hesitated.

"I won't ever be able to push it down again."

She paused for a moment. Her heart ached. Even now he was still trying to hold his emotions in. Even after all the lessons he learned about opening up, about trust and faith, he still hid anything that made him vulnerable; anything that attached him to someone else.

She was mad at him in that moment, that even as he watched her, he never understood the attachment she had to him; the interest that pulled like gravity, forcing her to him even if she fought it. How stupid was he not to understand that it was not his burden alone? That she too was guilty, more guilty of the betrayal he feared, than he would ever be?

Of course she felt cold with Aang. He loved her, and she loved him, but he was the wind, soft but cold, directing her where to go and how to be. Zuko was the sun. He let her storm and he let her settle. He understood the untamed life inside of her because it festered inside of him. In the end, there was only one sun, one source of warmth, one person that made her better, made her want more than she ever had.

"You won't need to," She whispered.

He didn't answer for a while, and she remained leaned against the door; her cheek pressed against the cold wood.

After all this time, she wondered if he truly no longer felt that way. There was no way to know how long ago he had written the letter. Maybe he was letting her reject him so he didn't have to reject her. It would be easy, holding all that in, to come to despise the person responsible. She was guilty of that, she knew. She turned away from the door.

The door clicked behind her, and she flipped back around.

His breathing was slower, no longer heavy and uneven. His hair was riled up around his face in tuffs of darkness. There was a light in his eyes, both fierce and gentle. But her gaze caught on his lips. They were the same pale pink, but not pushed together as they always were. They were open just a little.

She started to whisper his name, but her words were cut off.

His hands were soft against her cheeks; his fingers dug into her hair.

He was kissing her.


	12. Clear Skies Ahead

When he pulled away, his hands had sunk down so that his thumbs rested just beneath the bend of her jaw. His fingers were light against her neck; tingles ran down her spine as they slid off her skin; gentle as a breath of air.

"I'm sorry," He mumbled quietly, his face flushed as his hands rested back at his sides.

She shook her head.

"I don't know why," She whispered, searching his eyes, "That was wonderful."

He tilted his head up; removing the shame from his posture.

"Katara, I need to understand what's happening. You're still engaged to Aang. He still expects you back as of now. I need to know-what's your plan here?"

She thought for a moment.

"My plan?"

"I assume," He began, "When you told Sokka you were not afraid to face Aang, that you had a plan."

"I do," She said.

"And you..you read the letter before you came up with this plan?" He asked.

She nodded slowly.

"So you.." He blushed, his head sinking back down, "You definitely saw the mask."

"I did," She said, tilting her head, "What is it?"

"What's what?"

"The mask," She said, "What's it for? Why was the note hidden inside it?"

He buried his hand in his hair, and she fought the urge to smile. She wanted desperately to dig her hands into his long dark hair; perhaps that was why it's excessive length always bothered her-it was a temptation she couldn't handle.

"That was the wedding gift," He said slowly, not meeting her eyes, "The gift I made for you and Aang-something to wear on your wedding day."

She turned her head.

"Weddings in the Fire Nation usually include masks?" She asked.

He shook his head.

"..Not exactly. It's just-" He broke off, raising his gaze to the ceiling as he searched for words.

"It's just that I always thought I would wear a mask at my wedding," He said sheepishly.

"So you thought Aang and I would wear one at ours?"

"No," He said quickly.

She watched as confusion overtook his features. Had he surprised himself with his own answer?

"Zuko," She whispered softly, "Why didn't you give that at the engagement party?"

"Because you would know," He said, "You would know from millions of miles away. Anyone-everyone would know."

"Know what?" She asked, lost in his voice.

"That I love you," He said with certainty, irritated at her naivety.

She blushed this time; he had now said it out loud.

"Maybe," He added, the confidence gone from his tone, "I also was afraid to part with it because..because I thought if I ever told you..If I ever told you I loved you…"

He shook his head.

"And somehow you said it back...that it would be for us."

He met her eyes again, and Katara saw the strain it cost him to do so. He was embracing vulnerability; admitting feelings he had spent years forcing himself to hide. Now he was admitting them to her face. Not that she hadn't forced his hand-but he could have denied it if he wanted, and how could she do anything about that?

"For our wedding," She finished softly.

He nodded, already speeding through the moment; trying to break eye contact.

"Zuko," She said quickly, forcing him to hold on, "You have to understand something."

The haste was gone from his eyes.

"What?" His voice was gentle, but Katara could feel the longing.

Now was her turn to be vulnerable. He had spoken the truth; now she had to express her truth back. It was what he deserved.

"Every day I was with Aang, I thought I loved him," She said, unable to hold onto his gaze; his eyes burned against her.

"And I do," She added quickly, "I love him, and I love Toph, and Sukie, and of course my brother. I love all of them."

She sighed, trying to collect her words and line them up so he understood. She was tired of misunderstanding.

"But with you.."

She reached for her necklace; for strength from her charm. It was absent. She found her fingers wrapping around her throat, holding on.

"With you I didn't understand my feelings. I assumed the pull I felt toward you..was anger. Hatred, even. But no," She said, gaining the strength to look up again.

Her hand fell from her neck. Why was she trying to gain strength from an item? Zuko was right in front of her, staring at her with all the strength she ever needed.

"One morning, I woke up. I've felt cold for so long, Zuko. And I realize now that it wasn't because I hated you, or that I was afraid I wasn't worthy of marrying the Avatar-but because I was holding myself back from the only person who made me feel warm."

She lifted her hand to his cheek, and he didn't pull away. Didn't stop her when her fingers gently tucked his dark hair from his eyes.

"I was stupid," She said, almost laughing, "I had so much anger bottled up toward you because I thought you were the reason I was so unsure about marrying Aang."

"You were," She added, "You are. But it wasn't because of something you did, it's because of who you are."

The last leap was approaching.

"Because even if you don't believe me, I've loved you all along."

He was frozen in her hands; so still he couldn't breathe.

"Zuko," She whispered, her other hand rising against his other cheek, "I love you too."

Katara recalled that time she had gotten sick taking care of Sokka. Her fever had risen; they had run out of water; it seemed like the end. She begged Momo to fetch her water-Momo, who could not understand her words if she blabbed at him all day.

She remembered when she drank water after not having it for so long. The first sip was a tease; so temptatious, she downed the entire thing with ferocity so that it dripped down her chin onto her clothes, soaking her entirely.

Kissing Zuko was not much different. She was delirious from dehydration, and he had given her some water. The feeling she had when she tipped the bottle over her mouth-the desperation and wilderness-she felt it again.

Her right hand slid behind his head, into the dark curls just as she wondered about minutes ago, and she yanked his head to her height; pressing his lips against hers.

This time, it did not cease. Zuko did not pull away; there was no apology. They were unapologetic as they clung to each other; he did not feel regret as his arms fell over her shoulders; nor shame as his hands rested against her back. She did not feel guilt as she allowed her hands to move to his chest; resting just over his heart; the beats counting every second they held onto each other.

Her thoughts were stagnant; stuck on a single word every time his heart pounded against her hand.

_More._

There were no teases, no trickles of water before the downpour. Her hands moved to his back, smoothing down his shoulder blades as his hands directed her waist so that her spine straightened against the wall.

She pressed him against her, and his hands rose back up to her face.

She could feel him pulling away again.

_No_. _Not now_.

Her hands slid down to his lower back, and she pulled him against her as hard as she could.

All that time in the cold, she no longer felt the slightest chill. She was burning now; his hands were fire against her icy skin; melting all the fear away.

* * *

It was after the sun rose, after she sat straight against the wall, the scar over his heart deep red against his pale skin; after she watched every breath that caused his chest to rise; it was then that she really believed it. After so long, she understood the terror that seized her the day he dove in front of her-it wasn't because Azula was chasing her; no, that didn't matter at all. The frantic desperation that took control of her was because every moment she was away from Zuko could have been his last. She couldn't imagine the cold of a world like that.

She lied back down beside him, closing her eyes and falling into the easiest sleep she had ever experienced.


	13. The Unforgiving Wind

It was the afternoon when Zuko woke up. His eyes located the ceiling first, locating the familiar dark blue he had painted; intending to come back and add stars. Of course, while he was up there painting, he came to the realization that he possessed no painting talent; already deciding not to paint the stars later.

He began to remind himself where he was; what had happened the night before. As he recalled Sokka knocking at the door, there was a deep sigh beside him, and he almost jumped before turning.

_Katara_.

She was curled up on her side, her back pressed against him. Her hair was caught in tangles down her back, but still straight enough that Zuko was tempted to run his fingers through it. He decided against it after hearing her even breathing. He didn't want to wake her.

He stood up, grabbing his robe and sliding it over his shoulders; freezing up when his feet splashed into a puddle. The floor was still soaked from Katara sending the note. He remembered the night before, she bended a pathway for them. He chastized himself for not asking her to remove the rest of the water. At the same time, he knew he would never ask her for anything; least of all when she was kissing him.

He trudged through the mess as quietly as he could, jumping up and boosting himself further with fire. When he reached the door, he turned back to make sure she was still asleep. She shifted slightly, but her breathing remained relaxed.

Feeling assured, he stepped outside the room and shut the door quietly. He walked toward the kitchen, mentally deciding to make the same rose tea he made the day before. Surely Katara would appreciate it when she woke.

He marched into the kitchen and opened the window. Immediately he was seized by a cold breeze; sharp and unyielding. Katara's shawl danced in the wind as it was pulled away. He reached for it, surprised when he tumbled out of the window after it.

While it no longer rained, the skies were white, and the branches of trees swished from one side to the other quickly. He ignored the cold as the shawl fell to the ground, and he kneeled over to pick it up. As he pulled, a foot came down and held it there. He yanked again, and in his frustration glanced up to glare at the owner of the foot; but found himself stumbling back in shock instead.

His face was not visible, he was only a silhouette against the white sky, but he held his staff, and Momo sat on his shoulder. Zuko stared at the dark frame of his friend for a long time, not sure what to say or how to react. Every instinct in his body told him to attack; that the shawl was for him, and Aang was damaging it by holding it down.

But his heart was heavy with guilt; it weighed him down to the point that he could not move. He only stared.

Aang, or the shadow of Aang, pointed the staff at him, and Momo hissed.

No words need be exchanged. Zuko understood perfectly clear.

* * *

He woke up moments later, his heart thumping hard in his chest. He straightened up, trying to calm his breathing before he woke Katara. But his movement had already disturbed her; she had been sprawled against him, and her hand remained against his heart.

"Zuko?" She whispered, her voice full of concern, "Are you alright?"

He looked away from her. Her eyes already held so much compassion. He didn't deserve it. Her hope in him was misplaced. Already, the voice in the back of his head was chastising him. _Coward_, it whispered. The same word he called himself after that day in Ba Sing Se.

He sighed, returning his gaze to her, accepting the warmth she offered.

"No," he replied softly, "I'm not alright."

She straightened up, pulling away from him, but keeping her hand firm on his arm.

"Is it my fault?" she asked, "Did I push you more than you were ready? I just..I know you spent so long pushing down your feelings..was I wrong to confront you like that?"

He pressed his hand to her cheek before he could stop himself. The familiar smoothness beneath his palm sent jolts of energy up his arm.

"Katara," he said, as if it were a holy word, "I would never believe that you loved me if I asked you first."

He swallowed, trying desperately to ignore the intoxicating scent of her hair; and the way her dark curls swirled around her neck like a work of art.

"I wished it for a very long time," he admitted, "but it grew too painful for me, and too cruel for me to wish of you. If you didn't force me to talk about it yesterday, then I never would have."

She tilted her head.

"Then what's wrong?"

He recalled his dream again, and dropped his hand from her face. She shivered, and reached for his hand, but he pulled away. The hurt in her face for that moment was unbearable.

"Zuko?"

He turned and stood up, his feet splashing down into his soaking floors.

"I just feel guilty, alright?"

"Guilty of what?" she asked, still sitting on the bed.

"Of..of stealing you."

She scoffed, pulling herself up and crossing her arms as she marched toward him.

"You've never stolen a girl before?" she taunted, her eyebrow raised.

"That's not the point," he responded, pointing at her, "It's not the stealing part that I feel guilty about."

She shrugged.

"So what is?"

He sighed, turning and pulling his robe on.

"It's the who," he said under his breath.

"Because it's Aang?" she asked, "Is this just because he's the avatar? Because that doesn't mean he has the right to have whatever he wants. He's a person just like everybody else..just an extremely nice, moral person..whose saved the world."

He walked to the other side of the bed, fetching Katara's robe and marching back to her.

"It's not because he's the avatar," Zuko said, helping her arms into her sleeves, "It's because he's my friend."

Katara hesitated; Zuko watched her face ponder how to answer this, how to give him hope and support. He held his hand up to halt her thoughts.

"I've never had true friends like any of you before," he said, "I'm just afraid of losing any of you."

Her head fell down, and her eyes closed. He pressed his hand beneath her chin and lifted it.

"The trouble is that I can't even look at you," he started, and she tried to move her chin out of his hand, "without wanting to kiss you with everything I have."

She looked up at him as his hand slid back up to her cheek, pressing her own hand over his. He kissed her again, softly and sweetly, unlike the desperation and neediness present in their previous kisses.

When they broke apart, Katara took a deep breath.

"So what do we do?" she asked as he twisted her hair around his fingers.

"I don't know," he admitted, "We can either seek Aang out, or he can come to us, but..," he shook his head, "I can't imagine how painful it must be to wake up believing you're about to marry the most wonderful person alive, and instead find out she's gone."

Katara nodded.

"You're right. That's why I wrote that letter. But that was..wrong."

"So our choices are to leave this behind and go to the South Pole."

"Or?"

"Or let him experience that pain."

Katara glanced away, and Zuko realized how afraid she was to return.

"I don't know if I want to leave here," she mumbled, "here it's safe. It's just us. Well, occasionally Sokka. But once we leave here, " she sighed, "everything takes definite shape. There cannot be any more loose ends."

"I know," he said, "that's why I'll let you decide."

He tried to give her hope for once.

"Whatever you pick," he said, "I'll be right there with you."

He could see she was fighting tears, and he wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her to him. She clung to him, crying silent tears against his robe, burying her nose against it; desperately seeking the scent of him; of ashes and smoke, like the comfort of a fire in the cold.

"We better get ready then," she said at last, "he deserves the truth. Face to face."

Though Zuko felt fear curling around his stomach, he tried to ignore it; tried to ignore the terror of seeing Aang so cold in his dreams; ignore the possibility of being sent away again, this time by someone who had genuinely cared about him. Instead, he focused on Katara against him. He didn't care much what it cost anymore, because at last he had what he needed.


	14. Guided by the Sun

When Zuko gave her the choice of letting Aang discover his own broken heart or to go and break it herself, she felt shame and guilt at her immediate response. She wanted nothing more than to curl into Zuko's arms and forget Aang; at least now, while she hadn't hurt him yet. While he didn't know she hurt him.

But it wasn't a choice, no matter how much she wanted to ignore the only option.

No, she couldn't let Aang discover she was gone. That was wrong. She couldn't imagine the pain of discovering someone had left-if nothing else he deserved an explanation. A reason to hate her. A reason that he could push himself away from her and never look back; because he had trusted her and she was hurting him most of all.

They loaded up on Appa early that morning. Zuko gave her time to shower, and she cleaned up the floor so Iroh wouldn't have to deal with it on their way back. Zuko considered writing a notice on the door for the sudden closure, but Katara suggested he contact Sokka. Not that he would know how to make tea well but...he could make something at least. So he wrote a quick note and sent it by hawk.

After her shower, she went down to the stables where Appa slept, woke him with breakfast, and brought him up to the shop. She was surprised to see there was someone standing right outside the door. Surprised enough to drop the bucket she carried Appa's food in. Appa, meanwhile, let out a deep, appreciative moan.

Iroh smiled warmly at her.

"Greetings Katara, might I ask what you're doing here? Isn't the wedding tomorrow?"

"Two days, actually," Katara replied, avoiding his eyes by bending over to retrieve the bucket.

"I see." Katara had a feeling he did see. That he saw clearest of any of them. But she didn't feel like it was fair to tell someone else before she told Aang.

"I should uh...probably get my stuff on Appa...hurry off to the South Pole, and all.." she added quickly, trying to move past him. Before she could take more than two steps, he lifted a gentle hand to her shoulder. It was the first time she had realized that she was now eye level with Iroh. But he still felt so much larger than her; so much warmer.

"I am happy for you," Iroh said, "I want you to know that, Katara."

She felt tears stinging her eyes. Happy for her? Well good! Someone should be happy for the selfish girl who abandoned her fiance for someone who was once his mortal enemy and presently his best friend.

"Are you alright?" he asked, concerned.

"I'm great," she added, sliding his arm off her carefully.

"That was convincing," someone said from behind her.

She jerked around to see Toph walking up behind her, a sly grin spread across her face.

"Toph? What're you doing here?" she asked, trying to slow her breathing.

"Well Sokka got the message to head over, and we're really not far from here but, he said he could beat me here." Toph smiled wider. "So here I am. I'd say we have an hour before he gets here." She closed her eyes and shook her head. "Anyhow, Katara, in case you've forgotten, I am well versed in the art of lies. And that was shameful."

Katara sighed. "Well I'm sorry I haven't had as much practice!"

Zuko opened the door, froze at the sight of Iroh, his face burning red as he rapsed, "Uncle! What-what're you doing here? I thought you said your friend was...was not going to make it?"

Iroh tilted his head at his nephew.

"Well, I have a secret," Iroh admitted, "My friend was not ill. I just wanted to visit him. As I began to travel back, I saw Appa flying over and decided to stay longer." His eyes twinkled as he stared between Katara and Zuko.

Toph laughed a little, looking between the two of them. Immediately Katara wrapped her arms around herself defensively and turned away to hide her face.

"You guys think you're slick, huh?" Toph chuckled a bit more, then tapped her toe against the ground. "For years. YEARS. I've felt your little heartbeats halt and hype out whenever you were in five feet of each other."

"Maybe it's because we hated each other so much," Katara tried.

"Exactly. Despised each other," Zuko added with certainty.

"Yes-full on malice."

Toph just put her hands on her hips, her smirk still prominent on her face. "Whatever you two say. I know when two people are lovey for one another."

"Then you also know why we might not have spoken on it," Zuko added sharply.

"Maybe," Toph acknowledged, "but I also think that's stupid. Aang is our friend, and you owe him the truth. Even if it hurts."

"It usually does, apparently," Zuko groaned.

Iroh pressed his hand on his shoulder.

"Nephew, surely you cannot believe all truths are painful?"

Zuko met Katara's eyes, and she wondered which thought it was that made him shake his head. Was it when they kissed? When they admitted their feelings?

"Fine. Not all truths are painful." He gave her a small smile, which was a lot for Zuko, who hardly smiled in public. "Some are nice."

Katara felt it again; that blaze of warmth when Zuko was looking at her. As if lightning had spotted her alone, and pinned her down, but was embracing her with soft flames.

"Katara," Iroh said, "may I have a word alone with you?"

Zuko turned defensively to his uncle, but Katara began moving toward the door. Zuko seemed to plead with Iroh, but Iroh waved him off as he closed the door behind her. She could still see Zuko's silhouette etched against the door frame.

"I wanted to speak to you because I understand you are troubled," Iroh said.

"A little," Katara sighed.

"Only a little?"

Katara covered her eyes with her hands. She had come here intending to speak with Iroh about her feelings for Aang. They were complex and difficult to face, and shutting them down hadn't done much but allowed her short escapes from the pain of carrying them in her heart. Iroh waited patiently in front of her; waiting for her to delve into the reality she had avoided. This was what she wanted. So why was it so hard to say?

"Aang.." she said, her voice cracking. "I'm terrified for what he'll say-what he'll do. I think about how wonderful he has been to me, and how happy he was when we were together and I…" she swallowed, "I hate myself for not loving him like that. I hate that I made him promises I could not keep and I am terrified of how he will look at me.

"Worse," she continued, "how will this affect him? Not his heart, but _him_? Aang has been this wonderful, free spirit as long as I've known him and I...I can't be the reason he crashes and burns. He's the avatar and...and he deserves happiness. What if..what if all that disappears? What if he become cold and...and he doesn't want to be the avatar anymore? What if he doesn't even care about himself? What if something terrible happens, and it's all my fault? Because I couldn't love the perfect boy?"

She was breaking into sobs when Iroh held up his hand.

"Katara, you have always been a considerate person. Too much, sometimes, I believe. You must know it is not your responsibility to provide happiness to someone, no matter how much you care for them. We are all lights capable of bright and dark moments. Sometimes we need the dark to remind us how bright we can be." He smiled. "You cannot plague your thoughts with worries of 'what if.' That is torture for any soul, particularly one who cares as much as you do. I do not know how Aang will react. He is not an image etched into stone. He is alive, and continues to change. But I do know he is strong, and he is wise, and he is understanding. Perhaps as much as you are. He will not be defeated by a broken heart. He loves too greatly for that, as do you, as does my nephew."

He closed his eyes and smiled bigger.

"I have always wanted happiness for Zuko. But that is all I could do. I can want what is best for him, but I cannot force it upon him. I knew he cared for you, and I hoped he would tell you, but I was not certain that you would care back. What matters is we do what we can to provide happiness for ourselves, even if it hurts. Aang has tried, as have you. Even my nephew."

He opened his eyes.

"You must not hold yourself accountable for that. All you can do is hope that Aang will find the same happiness you hope to find."

He turned to the door.

"I wish you safe travels. There were some storms a few days ago, but they have mostly passed. You now have the safety of the sun to guide you." He held it open for her. As she walked by, she heard him say, "Good luck, Katara. I hope you find the happiness you are searching for."

She wanted to turn to him and thank him, but he closed the door. Instead she rose her gaze to the person in front of her, with his bright eyes that burned gold beneath the sun.

_I think I've already found it_, she wanted to say.

Zuko held his hand out.

"Come on, we've got to go. We only have two days. That's hardly long enough to make it there by flying straight over."

Katara took his hand, and he pulled her toward him. His hands moved to her waist to lift her into the saddle, but she quickly pressed a kiss to his nose. She pulled herself up before Zuko could react; looking over her shoulder to see his face bright red.

"Yeah, total hatred," Toph scoffed from behind them. She stormed into the shop, and Katara faintly heard her ask Iroh what tea he was brewing as Zuko climbed up and they lifted off.

They must have been in the air for two or three minutes when Katara heard the echo of someone below.

"Oh come on! I could have beat you if you hadn't cheated!"

She leaned back in the saddle, a smile pressed to her face at Sokka's shout. It was enough to keep her distracted. It was a long trip back to the south, and travelling two days straight wasn't going to help much.


	15. Clouds Ahead

Two days.

That was the short amount of time left Zuko could call Aang his friend. The dread inside him made it faster. Lately, his heart had been beating fast because Katara was behind him, or beside him, or smiling at him, or kissing him. Now, he stared out at the open sky and felt the guilt begin to weigh on him.

Katara offered to switch, but he refused. She was exhausted. He wasn't going to sleep anyway.

The sight of snow placed a heavy weight on his shoulders. Katara wrapped a heavy blue coat around him, and pulled herself up beside him, at the front of the reins.

"You really should rest," she insisted, but he shook his head. She leaned her head on his shoulder. "Then I'll stay up here with you." He wanted to argue, but the warmth of her body beside his was too great to resist.

"What are you going to say?" he asked her, as snow began to fill the air around them.

Katara shivered, and he wrapped an arm around her. She snuggled against him, closing her eyes. "I'm not sure yet. I don't know where to start. If I should be soft and lead up, or start with the truth, no matter how painful."

He considered both options. He didn't want to tell her how much he dreaded getting there. She was losing much more than him. In fact, he still couldn't believe it. The thought had not directly crossed his mind, and as he tried to help her explain it to Aang, it clarified the current reality:

Katara was leaving Aang for him.

The avatar.

_That guy_.

The perfect one.

What was she doing?

Zuko was Fire Lord, sure but...but...he was mutilated and...emotionally unintelligent...and..and….not the avatar.

Still, he couldn't fight the smile. He tried, though.

"Maybe it would help if you tried to imagine it in reverse."

"Reverse?" she asked, "like if you Aang was leaving me?"

"Yeah," he said, "that might help."

She bit her lip. "It might, but there is a small difference."

He tilted his head.

"Aang doesn't-I mean, I guess he could, he _is the avatar_, but-he doesn't really have someone else. Not as far as I know. As far as I know...he's only tried to get _me._ I felt obligated to be with him, but it wouldn't be the same."

Zuko sighed, resting his head on hers again.

"Then what would be the same?" he asked.

"Not the same," she began, "but close-if you left me."

He flinched at the thought.

"What?"

"Well, it's true. If you left me...I just can't imagine what I'd do."

"Well stop imagining then. I'm not going anywhere."

"But that's all I can think of."

He didn't like to play this game. If she imagined a life where he left her...would she realize how much her value exceeded his? Would she see that she was worth the planet? She could have anyone. He couldn't. That was probably why he spent so long moping over her. He wanted someone he didn't deserve.

She looked up at him and pressed her fingers against his chin.

"Stop that."

His brows furrowed.

"Stop what?"

"Imagining something is going to pull us apart."

"I...wasn't."

She smiled at him, the same grin Toph gave them when she knew they were lying.

"Okay, so maybe I was. Honestly Katara, I can't imagine what you should say to Aang because it's true. He's losing the whole world."

She pursed her lips.

"What would you want me to say if I was leaving you?"

"I'd rather not give you ideas."

"Oh? And why not? That scared, huh?"

"Well we are on the way to your wedding with intentions to cancel it. When are you going to leave me? After the first kid?"

He froze, the mockery leaving his face. He had gone too far. They had been together about a day. A DAY. Why was he mentioning kids?

"After the honeymoon," she replied, "then at least I get a queen's vacation."

He laughed a little, nervously, and she pressed her fingers to his lips.

"But Zuko, I can tell you right now I've never felt this way about Aang. About anyone. It's like you're the center of gravity, and I could try to get away, but somehow I'll always be pulled back."

He pulled her fingers from his mouth.

"If you're sure," he said softly. Her nose was an inch from his; their breath was shared.

"So what would you want me to say?" she asked, not moving.

"Depends. If I needed to move on, I'd want you to say you never loved me."

"Harsh," she replied, "I don't think that's very kind."

"Sometimes what's right isn't kind. If I wanted softness, I'd want you to say you loved me all you could, but that I loved you more than you could ever love me. That I deserve someone who loves me as much as I love them. That's what I'd want you to say."

He shook his head, and she reached up to remove the powdery white snow from his dark hair.

"But to be honest, I wouldn't care if you didn't love me as much. I wish and hope you would, but every time I'm near you I feel blessed by every spirit and every being that I earned a second of your presence. I would want you to have that feeling, because it's the best feeling there is. To be close to the person you love more than anything in this world. If I couldn't give it to you, then I'd want you to leave for that. Because I don't deserve that feeling if you don't have it too."

She stared at him for the longest time, until she whispered his name under her breath. He pressed his hand to the side of her face so his thumb stroked her cheek. Then she kissed him.

In the snow, it felt like a jolt of lightning through his body. Like he had died and someone had zapped him back to life. All the numbness from the cold retreated, and every one of his nerves began to buzz. She pressed her hand to his neck, and the sensations began to hum throughout him. He pressed his hand to her waist, and suddenly there was a harmony ringing throughout his veins. They pulled closer together until their hearts were beating against each other; the same time, the same speed.

He lost his balance way too soon. That was the risk with releasing the reins. Katara, who had put her weight on him, fell with him. The wind sung against their ears as they fell. He felt like calling out for help, but Katara took his hand, and with her other arm, swam upward and down in a graceful movement. Water rose up to greet them, and Zuko barely had time to react as the ice cold greeted him. He was half submerged when Katara released his hand and moved her other arm.

The water, initially a long pole of ice cold liquid, froze to resemble a spiral staircase without stairs. Katara landed in front of him, on her feet, stretching her arms out to aid her movements as she cascaded down. Zuko was not as graceful, and though he was no longer submerged in water, found himself sliding down on his back.

He hoped Katara was moving faster than him, but found his hopes destroyed when he slid right into her, causing her to tumble backwards, right on top of him. He seized her waist, and they continued sliding down against the non-existent mercy of the ice until they came to a sudden bump.

Then they were surrounded by air.

Then they landed in the snow.

Zuko had been shouting, he knew it as snow filled his mouth. He had shouted the whole way down the slide. Katara, meanwhile, had been laughing. She burst from the snow, in a fit of giggles, tossing her arms around. The snow that held him in place was lifted from his shoulders in a puff of white.

Katara took his hand and helped him to his feet.

"Sorry about that," she said, a smile etched on her face.

Snow decorated her dark hair, almost like a veil from nature. At the serious look in his eyes, the happiness seemed to drain from her face. He felt bad, and was about to reassure her, but turned. Appa was landing about twenty feet from them, near a watch tower sculpted from ice and snow.

They had arrived.

It was time to get their sentence.


	16. Fallen Flower

Katara wanted to stay with Zuko in the snow as long as possible. Seeing him in her home was a wonderful feeling; the two parts of her so different coming together at last. But she couldn't delay the inevitable any longer. Whenever she looked at Zuko, she saw Aang's face as she told him. The heartbreak in his eyes.

She took a deep breath, and stepped forward. She wanted the comfort of Zuko's hand in hers, but if Aang saw that, he would know before she could tell him. She couldn't let that happen.

As they moved into town, Zuko held her pace from behind her. Many of the villagers looked up from what they were doing to watch her. It was the day of the wedding, and she had barely made it back.

Aang, she guessed, would be either in the temple, or in his house. She could picture him there; meditating perhaps. Had he discovered she was gone? A part of her wanted him to be looking for her, wondering where she was. But she didn't want to be that selfish. It would be easier for him if he had thought she was capable of this...if he could blame it all on her.

She paused outside his house. Even in the snow, she could smell Aang. The scent of fur, and hay, and wind. Appa, who had been following them, plopped down in his spot and started munching on the hay. Katara tried to smile at the familiar sight; Appa right outside Aang's house, waiting for his best friend to walk out. The guilt of taking Appa sunk in. It was wrong to use his best friend to leave him.

Zuko's hand warmed her shoulder, and she turned to look up at him, but his expression was withholding. She followed his gaze to see the temple; decorated in ice sculptures; symbols of her and Aang coming together.

Her heartbeat picked up, and she was tempted to run in the other direction. But Zuko gripped her shoulder tighter, and she took a deep breath. She laid her fingers over his, and nodded, letting him know she was alright. He released, and they moved as a unit to the temple.

On the steps, she looked down at herself. Green silk worn and torn by travel; stained by mud and frozen in several places. She pulled her shawl tighter over her body.

She stood in the entryway, knowing with certainty Aang was inside. She swallowed.

"Zuko," she whispered.

"Yes?"

"You should...stay here."

She could feel him straighten up defensively.

"I...I thought we were going to do this together. I thought that's what you told Sokka."

She turned and faced him, not meeting his eyes. She kept her head low, so her eyes were just level with his chest. She was desperate to wean into his arms and allow them to shelter her as she listened to his heart...but now she needed to be strong on her own. She could rely on his strength later.

"I told him I wouldn't be alone. And I won't be, because you're here. But...but I owe it to Aang to speak to him alone. He shouldn't feel ganged up on."

She still couldn't let herself look up at his face in fear she would lose herself and forget why she was here.

"If you're sure...but I'll wait right here. If you need anything, call for me. Do you promise? If you need me, I'll come."

She couldn't avoid his face anymore. He had leaned down to meet her eyes so she would promise him truthfully.

She allowed herself ten seconds of golden beauty.

"I promise," she said with a smile.

Before she could fall into the lull of his embrace, or the desperate need to feel his lips against hers, she whipped herself around, and entered the temple.

As she walked, she focused on the sounds of crunching snow beneath her feet. It was a waning focus, as the snow slowly dissolved with each step. When only soft sounds met her feet, she stopped to admire her surroundings.

Soft rugs of various blues beneath her feet; bluebell flowers entwined with red and gold ribbons decorated every pole and wall. At the front of the temple, a sculpture of the moon showered pale light upon everyone close by. She moved closer, seeing a figure in the corner of her eye.

He was, as she guessed, meditating. His back was straight as a board; perfect posture as always. Moonlight bounced off his bald head, the sheen dulled by his tattoo.

He was not yet dressed for the wedding, instead he was in his usual garb, red and yellow. But there was something in his hands that made him look like one of the decorations on the wall.

She stepped closer, terrified he would look over his shoulder at any moment. Her heart broke at the recognition of the bluebell in his fingers. She still wanted to run, and seeing him here, in the place they were supposed to weave their life together forever...it wasn't helping. She didn't feel afraid anymore. She just felt cruel. She was about to rip the heart out of someone she loved with the worth of the world.

He breathed evenly, and she decided not to disrupt him, but to watch. To wait. To savor every last moment she had with him before she hurt him.

Finally, after what felt to her like moments, but what was truly closer to an hour, he took a deep breath that lasted longer than his others, and opened his eyes. First, his head leaned down to gaze at the flower between his fingers. Then he shook his head and stood.

Katara remained as still as an undisturbed body of water. Then he turned, and everything inside her seized up.

His eyes were the same familiar, cozy grey. They widened in surprise, and before she could stop him, he dropped the flower, and threw his arms around her.

"Katara," he whispered against her, "I was so worried about you."

Her voice was caught in her throat against the warmth and familiarity of his arms.

"Sokka told me you had left to get something, and he was going after you to help you find it but...it just didn't seem like you to leave so close to the wedding."

He pulled away from her, and pressed his hand against her cheek.

"Are you okay?"

She swallowed, her eyes watering.

"I'm...I'm okay," she replied, her voice breaking.

"Are you sure?" he asked, "You look like you're hurting. Did something happen?"

The concern in his eyes and voice was just hurting her more. She could see protectiveness overtaking his features, and she stared into his eyes, remembering as she looked at him in the past. She had begged herself to see something deeper; to believe he was more than just her friend. She compelled herself to look at him and convince herself to love him more. That was the problem. She had already loved him as much as she could. Forcing herself into romance had taken the life out of her to give him what she believed he needed from her.

"Aang," she said, brushing his hand from her cheek, "I'm not okay. I need to tell you something."

He lowered his hand, and she looked away. With her other hand, she nervously combed some of her hair from her eyes.

"I...I can't marry you."

She thought she could hear shattering in the air. Certainly something was buzzing around her brain.

"You...you have to know," she began, pushing herself to look up and regretting it. The shattering she heard was his face. He looked broken. She looked away, forcing herself to continue. "You have to know I love you, Aang. I do. I always have but it's taken me a long time to realize that I just...I just don't love you in the way you want me to."

He started to speak, but broke off in stutters, so she continued on.

"After the war ended, I was so happy, and so thankful I had you. I cared about you more than anyone else. Because I...I couldn't imagine a world without you Aang, and I still can't." Her face was wet. Was she crying? She couldn't tell anymore. "The world needs you. And I'm sorry I can't be the person you want me to be, because I've tried so hard to deserve you but everyday...everyday it just feels like I'm lying to you and lying to myself...and I hope you blame me. I don't deserve you, and I'm not sure anyone does. But I know that you deserve someone who looks at you the way you look at them."

She held his gaze, no matter how much it hurt. It didn't matter much; she could hardly see through all the blurriness blocking out the details from his face. "You deserve someone who loves you the way you do them. I can't deny you that anymore. I've been so afraid to lose you, that I've held on as long as I could but...I've been dying inside with this lie." She wanted to bury her face in her hands. Her hair had fallen back into her face, and as she reached to wrench it back behind her ear, Aang did it for her.

His thumbs caught her tears and gently smeared them away. Then before she could stop him, he held her against him. Wetness dripped down her back. He was crying too.

"Katara," he said softly, his voice breaking, "you could never lose me. I'm sorry you've been in so much pain. I wish...I should have seen it." Her arms tightened around him.

He lifted his head from hers, and she looked up at him. He tried to smile, but he was red faced, and his eyes were puffy. "I can't imagine a world without you in it either." He swallowed. "I've loved you as long as I can remember knowing you. But Katara...I'm sorry you've felt that you had to love me back."

"I do love you," she interrupted, "it's just-"

"-not the way I want you to," he finished. He released her, and she felt isolated and alone as his gaze left hers.

"You are very important to me, Katara," Aang began, "and I can't live a life without you in it. If that means we can only be friends, then I understand. And I can do that," he continued, his voice breaking, "I just...I need some time to adjust." He looked to her for reassurance and she nodded. "I don't know when things can go back to...the way they were. It hurts to look at you," he croaked, "but they will. Someday."

She reached out to take his hand, and he held hers. It felt like a long time they just stood there, in the moonlight, holding onto the memories of each other with all they had, knowing they would not be the same when they broke apart.

Finally, he pulled away, looked at her one last time, and walked to the door.

She couldn't turn and watch him. It would hurt too much. She was already starting to sob; curling over to stop her body from shaking.

As she fell to her knees, her eyes landed on the fallen bluebell inches in front of her.

She took it from the floor, and held it against her heart, just as Aang had done before he released it. So much blue in such a small space.


	17. Tomorrow

Zuko was getting worried. Katara had been inside for almost an hour. He wanted to give her all the time she needed to say what must be said but...he couldn't pretend he wasn't worried about Aang's reaction. She hadn't even told him if she intended to tell Aang that they were together now. He really wanted to scream it to the world, just so he was certain it was true. But he also wanted to keep it hidden, so that the truth belonged just to him. And so he wouldn't lose Aang's friendship.

Footsteps were approaching from behind him. Katara must have finished, at last.

He turned to receive her, trying to read her mood from her footsteps. They were hurried, but light. Almost one with the wind. By the time he realized they were not Katara's footsteps, it was too late. Aang was right in front of him, his face still hidden in the shadows of the entryway.

Should he back up? Scimper off? He didn't know. He wanted to stand his ground and say Katara was with him, but he didn't want to hurt Aang.

"You came here with her?" Aang asked, the wind subsiding as he spoke.

"Yes," Zuko croaked, trying to hold Aang's eyes through the shadows.

Aang was silent for a moment. He didn't move from the shadows. Zuko wondered if he was trying to hide his feelings, or if he was figuring it all out.

It seemed likeliest to be the second option.

"Aang...you should know...I...Katara…" Zuko stumbled. He didn't know where to start.

Aang moved out from the shadows. There was no maliciousness in his face; no anger or negativity. It scared Zuko more, that Aang's face was almost blank, when the remnants of his conversation with Katara still lingered; puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks.

"Whatever it is," Aang said calmly, "now is not the time to tell me. I won't react well. I need-need some time. Some meditation."

Zuko bit down on his lip hard, and nodded, looking away from the vivid pain in Aang's grey eyes. Aang was passing by when he stopped walking suddenly, and turned back to look at Zuko. He scanned him carefully, his eyes wide with wistfulness.

"Just promise me...you'll take care of her, okay?"

Zuko turned to respond, but Aang had rushed ahead; the winds speeding around him to numb all other sounds. He hurried into the temple, angry that he hadn't told Aang; feeling worse than ever at the smug satisfaction that Aang had at last relinquished Katara.

Katara, he found, was kneeling in front of a large moon hoisted at the front of the building. He slowed his pace to observe her. She was leaned forward completely, something crinkled between her fingers.

He kneeled down beside her; she didn't look up. Gently, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and she stirred; reacting to his touch. She straightened up and leaned into his shoulder. Her eyes were closed, but her dark lashes held a multitude of tears.

_I should comfort her_, Zuko thought, though no words came to mind.

They just sat there, silently, holding each other for the longest time.

"I'm sorry," he said finally.

She shook her head.

"No, I'm sorry. None of this should have happened. I should of...I should have recognized my own feelings a long time ago instead of shoving them down." She met his eyes. There was terrible pain, and mourning, but there was also admiration. "I don't know how you did it for so long."

"Did what?" he asked.

"Held on," she mumbled, looking down at the object in her hands; straightening it out with her fingers. "How you knew you cared about me, and watched me with someone else...with your friend."

"Well of course it wasn't easy," he said, "and I was angry and depressed most of the time."

"Angry?" she asked.

He laughed a little.

"That surprises you?"

She smiled a little.

"I suppose not. Who were you angry at?"

"Everyone. At Aang, for managing to win you, at you, for choosing Aang, but mostly, I was angry at myself that I never really gave you the choice because I didn't tell you."

She laughed. "That does make it hard for me to choose you." She paused. "I want you to know, I am glad."

He didn't understand.

"Glad?" he asked.

"That...that even though there's all this pain...and I'll never forget Aang's face when I told him...I'm glad that I got to choose you. Even with all the difficulties that come with it, I am thankful I still got to make that choice."

His face was red. He wanted her to stop looking at him, but she didn't. She just moved closer and closer, until she was close enough to kiss him-and then she kissed his bright red cheek. She turned her head and leaned back into him.

"Someday," she whispered, "someday I know we'll look back and...and see this as the beginning of the real adventure."

"So just forget about stopping a war that lasted one hundred years?"

She laughed again; her body shook against his, and he pressed his head over the top of hers affectionately.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe this is just the epilogue. But you know what's great about the epilogue?" she breathed, "no more problems."

"Well if you choose to spend it with me, we might debunk that theory."

"We'll just have to see, won't we?"

"I guess so."

Zuko closed his eyes, content in the warmth of Katara against him.


	18. Epilogue Part 1

When the sun was up, it was time to train.

Ursa learned that lesson when she was young.

She also learned that if she hid, her mother would have a harder time finding her.

She didn't like bending outside; not where everyone could see.

So she hid in her father's closet. Her mother didn't go in there; not really, so she knew it would be safe.

Her father's closet was huge. He never spent much time in it, she thought. He always seemed to take exactly what he needed from the front, and walk away. All though, there was one time she remembered, when he had gone to get something from deep inside. Some sort of scroll or something. Was it a mask? She couldn't remember.

The back wall of the closet was lined in shelves. At the top there was a pair of masks. She squinted to see a little clearer. She couldn't make out the expressions designed on them, but they definitely seemed familiar. She stretched a hand up, frowning when she realized they were much too high up to actually reach.

She looked around, and acknowledged two facts:

There were several shelves leading up to the masks.

She was very small, and thus very light.

Together, these meant one thing:

She could climb up.

She grabbed hold of the highest shelf she could reach, and pulled her legs up to the shelf just below it. Sure enough, it held her weight. She stood, then pulled herself to the next shelf. And the next shelf. And the next.

Finally, she was sitting on the top shelf, with the pair of masks in her hands.

One was red and gold. The other was silver and blue. They reminded her of her mother and father, though she couldn't say why. She turned the blue one to her face. She thought the color would go the best with her eyes, considering only she had her mother's blue eyes out of three of them. But she was also the palest of them, with light golden skin. Still, the mask looked too big on her face

She wondered if it would look better on Kya, who had their father's golden eyes, his long nose, and his thin lips; but paired with their mother's curvier build, dark skin, and dark brown waves. She knew with certainty it wouldn't look good on Iroh, who was almost a copy of their father except with wider eyes and skin slightly darker than her own.

Ursa frowned, and held the red and gold one up. She realized she liked it much more, even if it didn't go with her eyes. She grinned at herself, even if she couldn't see her mouth in the reflection.

"Someone has a knack for climbing."

Ursa jumped in surprise. She leaned too far to the edge, and if it were not for her father, who rushed to snatch her into his arms, she would have fallen all the way to the floor. She flushed with embarrassment as he lifted the mask from her face.

Her father was, in her opinion, the most handsome man in the world. His eyes were the gold of a rising sun, and his hair was long, dark and sleek. His figure was tall and lean, but muscled even through his loose red and gold clothing. Even with the scar on his face, she thought no other man could compare to his beauty. But she was also spiteful with envy. She wished she looked more like him. Her hair had a bit of his sleekness, but was dark brown rather than black, and her eyes were wide and blue. All she seemed to have from him was her thin figure, but even he was tall.

"Might I ask what you are doing here, on the top shelf of my closet, instead of outside practicing bending with your mother?"

Ursa frowned, and her nose twitched.

"She was getting worried. We've been looking around for almost an hour," her father added.

She crossed her arms. "Maybe I don't want to bend stupid water."

He turned his head at her, and she looked at his scarred eye, which always remained the same despite his reaction. She usually looked there when he was angry so she didn't have to see his angry eyebrow. But he wasn't angry. He seemed calm; patient even.

"What's wrong with water?" he asked.

"Well aside from it being useless, it's always moving!" she shouted.

He raised his eyebrow.

"And fire doesn't always move?"

She waited before answering. "It's simpler."

"It's hard to contain," he said plainly, "I'm sure water requires some control, but it doesn't have to be as contained. Fire is all about containment and restraint."

"I'm good at that!" she insisted, though he smiled, looking from her to the many possessions knocked off the shelves when she climbed it. She crossed her arms again.

"I wish I was a firebender. Then you could train me. Then I wouldn't have to train separately from Kya and Iroh."

He set her down on the floor, and she sat down and continued pouting.

"You know, they're waiting for me right now," he said. She didn't respond. "They'd love to train with your mother. They dislike firebending quite a bit."

"Then how come they always brag about how much better fire is?" Ursa demanded, "What can I even say about water? It's cool and icy and-and we live in the fire nation! That shouldn't mix. Why should I bend water if I'm born in the fire nation?"

He sat down next to her. "You're a waterbender because your mother is a waterbender."

"But why? Why would you marry a waterbender? Why do I have to be a waterbender if I'm your daughter…"

"Because you're also her daughter," he snapped, "and Ursa, we marry because we love someone, not for the purpose of having children of only a certain type of bending."

She continued facing away from him, so he scooped her up, and set her on his lap. She giggled; she liked it when he picked her up. It made her feel like she was flying. Then she remembered she was mad at him, and continued pouting.

"How about I tell you a story?" he said, and she snuck a look at him.

"Maybe," she replied, "but it has to be a _good one_."

"Fair," he replied, "but when I finish, you have to go outside and train with your mother."

She scrunched up her nose.

"Fine. But on one condition."

He waited.

"It has to be one you haven't told Kya and Iroh before. So no war stories. We've heard them from you, and mother, and from Uncle Sokka and Aunt Toph, and Uncle Aang."

He frowned for a moment, then smiled. "Alright. Deal. There is one _very good story_ I haven't told them before. I'll tell you first."

He took the masks from the floor.

"It's the story of the masks. Do you want to hold one?"

She snatched the red and gold one. He smiled. "You ready?"

She nodded.

* * *

It was a rainy morning. To most people, that was a bad omen for the approaching day. But not to him. He smiled.

"You're going to ruin your hair," Uncle Iroh called, concerned.

"It's just rain," Zuko assured, pressing his hand to his head.

"What about your outfit?" Uncle Iroh countered.

Zuko looked down at his clothes. Neat red and black apparel, adorned with gold. He decided Uncle Iroh had a point, and stepped back inside.

"Yeah, just _water._ She can just bend it off him if it bothers her," Sokka replied, from inside.

"Is that what Toph does to you?" Zuko teased.

Sokka's face heated for a moment, before he held a finger up knowingly. "Usually, she bends earth _on me_. So, no."

Sokka was dressed in dark blue. His long hair was pulled neatly back. There was no trace of the disorganized and frantic person Zuko had taken to Ba Sing Se all those years ago. Zuko looked at Uncle Iroh, who was beaming at him with the biggest smile he had in awhile. His hair, always grey, had finally begun to transition to white. He still looked vibrant and wise in dark green and yellow, except today he also wore a red pin.

"Sorry, I'm late. I got distracted," Aang said, as he moved into the room. He hadn't changed much. The air of youth never left him, though he continued to look and grow much wiser. He wore his normal yellow and red, but in a more formal way. He smiled at Zuko, and despite everything, it was a genuine smile. Zuko knew, as he was sure the others did, it was only out of genuine happiness for Zuko; not because of what the day marked.

When they had begun planning the wedding, Zuko knew he wanted Aang to be there, but he also knew Aang had every right not to come. He and Katara decided to tell him first; telling him they understood if he didn't want to come, if it would be too hard. Aang, of course, being Aang, was repulsed at the suggestion. There was no reason he would ever miss something so important to two people so important to him.

"It's alright. I'm glad you're here," Zuko replied, smiling back.

Regardless of the good feelings between the two, there was no avoiding the awkwardness at moments like this.

"I'm going to go check on Katara. You know, make sure she isn't out in the rain either." Sokka said, breaking the silence as he squeezed out the door. Uncle Iroh pulled a comb from his sleeve, and stood behind Zuko, fussing over his hair while Aang laughed at Zuko's attempts at escape.


	19. Epilogue Part 2

"How do I look?" Katara asked, emerging from behind the folding screen.

"You know, I've always wondered that myself," Toph replied, her arms crossed as she leaned against the wall.

"Oh. Right," Katara said sheepishly, turning to look in the mirror.

"But I'm sure you look nice," Toph said, coming to stand behind her, a smile on her face. The door opened, and Katara barely registered the sound as she dove back behind the folding screen.

"Katara, how's it going?" Sokka said, pausing as he spotted her head behind the screen.

"Sokka! Do you ever knock?" Katara hissed. She turned to Toph. "Couldn't you have given me a warning?"

"What?" Toph shrugged, "It's just Sokka."

"Well yeah...you could've told me that so I didn't throw myself back here."

"Why would you throw yourself back there anyway?" Sokka asked.

"It would be bad luck if Zuko saw me before the ceremony."

Sokka rolled his eyes.

"Seriously with all the superstitions? You know, it's already stormy out there. I guess we should just push it all back another week, don't you think, Katara?"

Toph snickered.

"Well sorry I'm cautious! It's just the last time I was about to get married-"

"No one needs a reminder of that, Katara," Sokka said plainly, "We all remember quite clearly. Sorry I teased you."

She stepped out slowly from behind the screen.

"Wow. You look beautiful," Sokka said, running his eyes over the silvery blue gown.

He squinted, then looked back at the mirror. A hand-crafted, blue and silver mask hung over the corner.

"Are you guys really going to wear those masks to the ceremony?" he asked.

"Yeah," Katara said, "It's between me and Zuko." She glanced out the window thoughtfully. "How is he doing? Did Aang stop by?"

"Yeah, Aang came by, that's why I left. Just a whole bunch of awkward," Sokka said, throwing himself down on the sofa. "But it is better that he's here. It wouldn't feel right without him."

"And Zuko?" Katara asked.

"Being weird. Trying to go out in the rain. No idea what that's about."

Katara smiled, shaking her head.

"Me neither," she lied.

* * *

"I don't get it," Ursa said, "what's the deal with the rain? I mean, it's probably good for me and Mom, but why would you like it?"

He smiled at her as she pressed the mask over her eyes.

"That is precisely the reason I like the rain, Ursa. _Because_ it reminds me of you and your mother."

She frowned. "Okay, I guess. But that's like Mom saying she enjoys jumping into flames because it _reminds her of you_."

He laughed.

"It is a little different." Ursa was going to say more, but he spoke again. "Do you want me to continue, or do you want to go train?"

She shook her head. "Nope. More story. Sorry for interrupting."

* * *

The ceremony would be starting soon.

The hall was decorated with lanterns filled with flames both blue and red. They lined the walls, hung from the ceiling, and even the pathway to the altar. Fire lilies and bluebells were entwined together at the end of the aisle, where they would stand as they took their vows. Zuko, Aang, Sokka, and Iroh were already waiting there. Sokka was of course still complaining that he wouldn't be walking Katara down the aisle.

"I mean, I _practically raised her_!" he said, and Aang just shook his head.

"Sokka, you still have a father. If Katara wants her father to escort her, then shouldn't you respect that?"

"Well...I'm here, aren't I? I didn't boycott the wedding or anything. Even though.." he looked among the spectators, blushing before looking back to Aang, "she still invited Sukie."

Zuko didn't mind the bickering. It helped distract him from his heart, which seemed to be flooding the entire room with loud and heavy beating. Thunder sounded above them, and he froze, glaring angrily at his chest. _Get it together,_ he ordered, _this is no time no place for another "incident."_

Then the guests stood. Toph was walking toward them, the best smile she could muster slapped across her face as she held her bouquet out in front of her. Sokka, who seemed anxious a moment ago upon locating Sukie, looked pleased as he watched Toph march across.

But Zuko's attention was on Katara behind her. A blue mask was strapped over her face; with silver markings etched over. He self-consciously touched his face; making sure his mask was on. Then he blushed at realizing what he was doing. He dropped his hands back to his sides.

Hakoda halted about five feet away, and Zuko stepped down to Katara. She kissed her father on the cheek before taking Zuko's arm. The sensation of her beside him was a great comfort; suddenly his heartbeat was just background music and Katara was the prominent melody. Her eyes met his, and though he couldn't see her lips, he was certain she was smiling at him.

Iroh led the ceremony. He likely said something beautiful brimming with meaning and the importance of love, but Zuko didn't hear it. The first words his ears registered were from Katara.

"Zuko," she whispered, "vows."

His face heated, and he turned to his uncle to see a knowing smile on his face.

"Fire lord Zuko, please state your vows."

He nodded, feeling sick to his stomach. But Katara's hands were soft and soothing against his, and he turned to face her. He pulled his mask over his head to look at her fully.

"Katara, in times of darkness, I will give you light. When there is no warmth in this world, I will be your fire. You are the beat of my heart and the shine of my eyes. I wish to spend every moment at your side."

He held his breath, and slowly, Katara lifted her mask from her face.

"Zuko," she whispered, "My hands will heal your wounds. My heart will share your pain. My arms will shield you from the cold. With my life, I will love only you. Until I breathe no more."

He stared at her face; at the sapphire eyes and the round and full lips. She watched him, and they waited; keeping their eyes only on each other. They barely heard Iroh declare them as one before Zuko pressed his hands to the back of her neck and brought her lips to his; until the world melted away around them and that anxious voice in his head that always warned him against ever telling Katara how he felt melted away with it; forever.

* * *

"Is that the end of the story?" Ursa asked nervously, "What happened _after the ceremony?_"

"I thought we agreed on one story," Zuko said, smiling.

"Well...we did, but that wasn't the _complete story_. I mean, weddings _always have an afterparty_, don't they?"

"A reception?" he corrected.

"Yes! That. Let's talk about that."

"Well to be honest, not much happened there. Uncle Aang congratulated us, he didn't stay the whole time. Uncle Sokka spent most of the time with Aunt Toph. He danced with your mother a few times, but he was a little bitter about one of the guests, and wanted to show off."

"What about Grandpa Iroh?" Ursa asked.

"Grandpa Iroh made everyone tea, and basically kept everyone organized and entertained so your mother and I could just focus on each other."

"Okay...but after that? How did it end?"

"Ursa, you're going to have to ask a better question. We don't know the ending yet, do we?"

"We know a little more than Dad is telling you," Katara said, from the doorway. She was almost a foot shorter than Zuko, with hair woven into a long braid down her back. Her eyes had narrowed with age, though they were still that vivid blue, made almost violet by her purple dress.

Ursa flushed with surprise.

"Um...hi Mommy."

Katara sat next to them, tilting her head slightly.

"Ursa, you know the rest of the story so far. What happened after all that?" Katara asked.

Ursa looked thoughtfully at her father, waiting for a hint, but he just smiled. Katara took his hand.

"You had...Kya. Then Iroh...then me. But that was like a _hundred million years_ after the wedding, wasn't it?"

"Of course not. It was _two hundred million years_," Katara corrected.

Ursa scowled.

"Okay, so it was like eight years or something, right?"

"Something like that," Zuko agreed.

"So does that mean the story _is over?_"

"No, it never ends," he said, "not ever."

"Then I don't have to go to training, right?"

Katara laughed, shaking her head. "Let's go." She stood up, offering her hand to her youngest daughter. She pulled her up, but Ursa immediately brushed her hand off and hurried out of the closet and down the hall.

Katara turned to Zuko, shaking her head with a smile.

"Someone's gotten too patient. Where's the hotheaded firebender I married?"

He grinned and put the mask on. "Back here," he replied.

He took her hand and stood, and she lifted the mask away.

"There he is," she breathed, pressing her lips to his.

The children groaned from outside of the closet, but Zuko didn't care. He wrapped his arms around Katara, reminded of how thankful he was that she was in his arms, and unafraid to show it to the world.

The storm had settled at last.

* * *

_**Thank you SO MUCH for reading! I have loved reading each and every one of your reviews! **_

_**This was my first fanfic; and it was because of how important Zutara is to me that I finally sat down and wrote it after three years of it bouncing around my head. I didn't expect to get any follows, or favorites, or reviews, and I am both overjoyed and unbelievably thankful that I did. Reading your reviews has brightened my days, especially during these less than good times. **_

_**I apologize for the gaps and breaks between postings. Sometimes it was easier to write than others, sometimes it was hard to find time, so thank you for sticking around regardless of the wait between. **_

_**I will be going back and editing so the story is nice and clean together, but this **_**is**_** the end of the tale. **_

_**Again, thank you all so much for reading this. It means more than you could know to have my writing read and commented on.**_

_**Take care of yourselves; I hope you're all hanging in there. **_

_**-**_ _**Junie Dreams**_ -


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